Holiday Revenge
by KLMeri
Summary: Sequel to Goodbye, Holidays. Events turn ugly, for Kirk's enemy has found the perfect way to pay Kirk back for his meddling. Pike/Archer, McKirk. - COMPLETE
1. Part One

**Title** : Holiday Revenge (1/?)  
 **Author** : klmeri  
 **Fandom** : Star Trek AOS  
 **Pairing** : Pike/Archer, Kirk/McCoy  
 **Summary** : Sequel to Goodbye, Holidays. Events turn ugly, for Kirk's enemy has found the perfect way to pay Kirk back for his meddling.  
 **A/N** : Maybe I should offer a warning before we start down this path? The Holiday series so far has focused mainly on Pike and Kirk's amazing father-son relationship with some dangerous (and hilarious) things happening in and around their lives. But that doesn't necessarily mean they made no mistakes along the way, and now it is time to face some of those consequences - or, in Kirk's case, one of his worst fears come true. That said, I just broke up the Pike-Kirk show. For a reason. To be disclosed soon. Please don't hate me.

* * *

 **Part One**

"One cup of coffee, the last bagel, and a brand new case." The woman who sets three items on the desk in front of Christopher Pike smiles. "Welcome back, Detective."

Pike picks up the coffee first and takes a sip. "Thanks, Doreen. It feels good to be back."

The look she gives him is much too knowing. "Uh-huh. And how many times did you turn around this morning?"

He drops his gaze, embarrassed to be caught in the lie, and clears his throat. "Three."

Doreen reaches over the desk to pat his arm. "Your boy's lucky to have you."

"Yeah, well, as of right now I doubt he would agree." Pike sighs dramatically but his eyes are twinkling with mischief when he lifts them again. "McCoy can't pick him up until tomorrow so I left Jonathan in charge for the day."

"Oh _dear_."

That, Chris believes, is the understatement of the century. He'll be grateful if he finds his house still standing. But what choice had he had? With his month-long leave coming to an end, he needed to return to work. Unfortunately Jim had been sulking as Chris prepared to walk out of the house this morning despite the many reassurances Chris gave Jim that Archer would play nice. Jon, instead of actively disagreeing on the matter, had been suspiciously chipper about staying home.

Pike is desperately resisting the urge to find out what they're up to. He has to resist, he thinks as his fingers twitch against the top of his desk.

"Christopher?"

"Sorry," he apologizes, coming back to the present. "I just imagined several scenarios that could result from Jim and Jon being around each other for an entire day."

Doreen shakes her head. "They'll survive. So will you." She pushes away with the advice, "Captain wants to see you when you're ready. Take the case file with you."

"Thanks," he says again and turns to his computer, finally, fully immersing himself in catching up with all that he has missed.

* * *

Heavy silence has descended upon the kitchen of the Pike-Kirk household. Intermittently it's broken by the noise of shuffling feet or a grim sigh. Then, finally, someone—nay, the official babysitter extraordinaire of the day—makes the declaration of "Go fish."

Having revealed his hand, Jonathan Archer studies his opponent through narrowed eyes. Said opponent in turn peruses the pile of cards between them with a casual air before moving on to inspect Archer's stack of mini pretzels.

"Go fish," Jon repeats with seemingly infinite patience.

Instead of picking out a card, Jim takes one from the spread in his hand and flips it onto the kitchen table. "No. _You_ go to jail."

Jon takes one look at Kirk's play and curses succinctly.

Jim Kirk's tiny smile turns into a smirk.

With a growl under his breath, Jonathan turns to the jailmaster and feeds him a handful of pretzels. Porthos munches on the offering happily, leaving more slobber on Archer's hand than crumbs.

Jon turns back to Kirk. "Satisfied? I'm all out of bribes."

Jim's smirk widens as he lays down his cards and folds his arms across his chest. "So you admit that I am the winner."

"In your dreams, kiddo. I am the supreme champion of this game."

"But I won."

"You did not."

"Did to."

Knowing just how long Jim can keep up this childish bickering with him, Jon forfeits by throwing down his cards and raises a middle finger. Then he pushes away from the table. "What do you want for lunch?"

All of a sudden, the young man slumps down into his chair, his grin at being the victor dying.

Hardly surprised to be faced with this mutinous side of Pike's offspring, Archer rolls his eyes. "Look here, short roll, you can pout all you want. I'm not leaving."

"Don't you have a job, Sheriff?"

"Called in sick." Jonathan waves a negligent hand. "They'll be fine without me. You're the one who needs a protector."

A sharp _thwack_ makes the kitchen table jump.

Jon raises both eyebrows. "Did you just kick the underside of the table?"

Jim's expression darkens further.

Unperturbed, Jonathan fixes each of them a glass of lemonade and sits down again. When he checks his watch, he realizes it isn't anywhere near lunchtime.

Jim drags his glass across the table as nosily as possible before staring down into it.

"You're supposed to drink it," Jon offers helpfully.

"How do I know it isn't drugged?" Jim asks with suspicion.

"Do I look like I would drug you?"

Jim flicks a glance at Archer. "Yes."

Jon opens his mouth—and blinks. "Okay, I'll give you that one. Sooo many times have I wanted to drug you."

Jim pushes the glass far, far away and sits up straighter. "Well if you think I'll drink it now, you're crazy."

"Whoops." Jonathan retrieves the unwanted lemonade and places it next to his own. He can have them both.

A minute of awkward silence ticks by, then another.

At last, Porthos—still sitting in a chair waiting for more pretzel treats—lays his head down on the table in exasperation. Jim and Jon reach out at the same time to stroke Porthos's head. They stop mid-reach and eye each other cautiously.

"Wanna take him for a walk?" Jon asks, hoping for a truce.

Jim draws in a breath, releases it slowly. "Okay."

"Walkies!" declares Jon, pleased to have found something they can do together that doesn't entail him losing to Kirk to maintain good relations.

In response, Porthos perks up, jumping down to the floor and hurrying to the kitchen's back door. Jim retrieves the leash and Jonathan grabs their coats. Archer lets Kirk take the lead, following the boy and dog into the backyard at a more leisurely pace after he forces Kirk to put on a jacket.

In the middle of the yard, Jim halts and raises his head towards the sky. For a moment, the kid is very still, just breathing.

Jon can imagine the feeling that must be running through Kirk. The gentle, protective care Pike has encased his son in for several weeks since the attack has been a cage all the same for Jim. With his freedom restored, that last part of Kirk can finally heal. The world is returning to normal.

On the other hand, Pike's brave face this morning had only been a mask, which is why Chris had hesitated in the doorway and made one final, spur-of-the-moment request for Jonathan to stay with his son on the last day. Jon had been quick to accept, knowing that Pike needed that bit of reassurance in order to walk away. Jon suspects that despite Jim's blustering, Jim had understood too what his father needed in order to let go. To be honest, Jim has been behaving rather mildly in comparison to what he is actually capable of. For that, Jon is grateful.

Jim glances back at Archer, a question on his face, and Jon clears his throat and finishes coming down the stairs. Jim is spurred into motion again, walking with Porthos to the gate in the fence. Porthos's tail begins to wag madly at the idea of being allowed to leave the yard, probably because it's Kirk who is beside him. Naturally Jim has become his favorite companion.

Jon tries not to be jealous about that. Mostly he succeeds.

He watches them push ahead for a moment, then sinks a hand into his pocket to unearth a tiny black cell phone.

Pike picks up on the second ring, demanding in a worried tone, "What's wrong?"

"Hello to you, too, Princess."

"What's wrong, Jonathan?"

Jon swallows a sigh. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Jim and I are _fine_ , Christopher. Damn, I wouldn't have called if I had known it would wind you up."

There comes a long silent pause from the other end.

"Okay," Chris says slowly, as though he isn't quite able to believe that the sky hasn't fallen in the two hours and some odd minutes since he left his boyfriend and his son alone.

"Jim's walking the dog."

"Is he in sight?"

The question makes Jon look skyward. "Yes, I can see him. I'm not so stupid that I don't know the rules."

Now it's Pike's turn to sigh. "Sorry, sorry. You know I worry, Jon."

"Don't we all," he mutters in response, then forces himself to sound more cheerful. "Just think—tomorrow Jim'll be McCoy's problem."

"Jim is _not_ a problem," comes the sharp counter.

Jon winces. Wrong tactic. He should have remembered how alike Pike and Kirk are. "I just meant that tomorrow you can rest easy, old son."

Silence again. Then, "All right. I'm sorry I snapped. It's just... Damn it, Jon, I don't know if I can do this."

"I know you don't," Jon comforts him, "but look at what you were able to accomplish today in spite of yourself. To tell you the truth, Chris, I was fully expecting you to turn your truck around and decide to stay home. But you didn't. So good for you."

Chris mutters something under his breath.

Jon presses on, "I mean it. I _am_ proud of you. I am. And I think tomorrow you'll give your kid a big hug, maybe cry a little, and let him out of the nest again."

A huff. "I won't cry."

"I won't say anything if you do," Jon promises.

And just like that, the two men are on even ground again. Jon's heart melts to hear Chris laugh a little.

"How about we go out for steaks tonight?" he suggests lightly. "My treat."

Pike's voice is warmer. "That's generous of you, Jon. I don't think I can promise you that though. I might need to work late. New case. Plus, you should see the paperwork stacked up on my desk."

"Yeah, I'll pass."

Pike laughs again. "It comes with the territory, you know that."

"Ha ha. I swear if they had told us that back at the Academy about the damn paperwork, I would have quit right away and pursued my dream job instead."

"And what's your dream job, Jonathan?"

"Cabaret singing." When Chris doesn't stop laughing, Jon rubs at the back of his neck sheepishly, grateful his boyfriend can't see his expression. Oh hell, that really had not been a joke. Now he will be damned if he ever admits he was telling the truth!

He clears his throat. "Gotta go, Pike. Need to catch up to your boy."

"Okay. Thanks for calling."

He starts to hang up but just then Pike calls, "Jon?"

"Yeah?"

"I do trust you, more than you know."

"Sure, no problem," he answers, still embarrassed. "Hanging up now."

"Bye, Jon."

"Buh-bye."

Jonathan pockets the phone with a heartfelt sigh and strides through the gate. Jim is out of breath as if he had been running when Jon catches up to him and Porthos along the street, but Kirk's eyes are sparkling with energy despite the winded appearance and he looks very pleased with himself.

"Take another lap if you want," Jon tells him, tugging Porthos's leash out of Kirk's hand. He looks at his panting dog. "Sadly it has to be a slower pace for us old folks."

Porthos seems to agree, for he does an exhausted flop over Archer's feet with a groan.

Jim points to a stop sign in the distance. "Five bucks says I can make that in under a minute."

Oh this is too good of an opportunity to pass up. Jon digs out his wallet. "I'll give you twenty bucks if you jog it at an _easy_ pace and wait for us to catch up."

Kirk snatches the twenty out of his hand, crying, "Deal!" right before he sets off at a pace that won't give him—or Archer for that matter—a heart attack.

Grinning, Jonathan tucks his wallet away again. He tells Porthos as he scoops the dog up into his arms, "Maybe I wouldn't have made such a terrible parent after all."

Porthos wags his tail.

* * *

Even before the office door is fully closed, the person behind a very large desk turns around noiselessly in a leather chair to face Pike. "Detective, welcome back."

"Captain," Chris replies respectfully, "I'm glad to be here." He takes a seat in front of her desk.

Captain Gretchen "Greta" Liu is a middle-aged woman with faint laugh lines, light golden-brown hair that curls just beneath her ears, and a no-nonsense attitude to match her sharp intelligence. When the station's former captain had retired nearly seven years ago, she had come from out-of-state to take over the vacancy after he turned down the Chief Commissioner's offer of promotion. The first few months were shaky for the whole department, but inevitably Liu's rules of fair play won the team over and, under her leadership, the precinct has thrived. One of the reasons Pike enjoys working for Liu is that she thinks like he does, so oftentimes she can anticipate what he wants before he even asks for it. It had hardly surprised him that the day after Jim's attack he had called into work only to find Greta had already started the necessary paperwork to take family leave. Later Archer had mentioned that Liu had called him up and grilled him on the specifics of the investigation. Jon's summation of her personality had been "someone I hope I never have to meet in person." Personally Pike thinks that would be a meeting worth attending.

Of course, the leave of absence wasn't indefinite. Now the deadline is up, and Chris's boss needs him ready and willing to put his head back in the game. Thus why he sits motionless under Liu's discerning stare until whatever the woman sees satisfies her.

"You mean that," Liu decides. "Good. Let's discuss your new case."

He raises the manila folder in his left hand. "I just read it... Does the Lieutenant know?" He tells her solemnly, "I don't want to step on any toes."

"We need leads, which Marcus hasn't delivered in the month he has overseen the case." Greta leans back in her chair. "I know you can crack it, Detective. If anyone gives you shit about it, send him to me." The woman drums her fingers on her chair arm then narrows her gaze at him slightly. "Consider yourself lucky, Christopher. There are about a half dozen murders I could have put you on. I thought I was being kind."

"A string of daylight robberies is hardly a light case," he remarks.

"Since the perps haven't actually stolen much of anything, that makes it more interesting, don't you agree?"

Chris does agree. He likes a puzzle—and Liu knows it. "Fine, thank you," he concedes. "I won't disappoint you."

"I hope not," his captain agrees. "Now..." Greta lets her silence stretch on for a long minute. "Is there anything I should know? Other... cases I need to be aware of?"

Chris sits back, eyeing her warily. "No."

The woman inspects her manicured nails. "Don't lie to me, Pike."

He doesn't want to admit the truth either.

She locks gazes with him. "You're part of this precinct, therefore you are free to use our resources to an extent. That does _not_ mean I give you permission to engage in investigations other that the ones I sanction on paper. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," he replies.

Liu gives him a bland smile. "Just don't get caught."

Chris suppresses a smile. "Of course not, Captain."

"Dismissed."

He stands up to leave but Liu calls to him once he reaches the door.

Greta picks up a framed photo of two smiling children from the corner of her desk, saying without looking at him, "I can understand how you feel, Chris. If it had been one of my kids..."

"I wouldn't wish that horror on any parent."

She looks up, then, and meets his eyes. "Law and order is our business, no exceptions. Remember that."

Chris nods despite the lump in his throat. "Yes, ma'am."

Liu waves him out of her office with a commanding "Get to work, Detective."

* * *

Some hours later, Pike pinches the bridge of his nose and closes the last folder on his desk. Pushing back his chair, he heads toward the break room and a refill of his coffee. When he finds that the percolator is in the middle of producing a fresh pot, he pulls out a cell phone and texts Archer. An immediate response comes back to his inquiry, assuring him, _grumpypants ate his hamburger AND his fries,_ followed by two goofy smiley faces.

Pike texts back, _I said vegetables, not fries._

Archer's reply: _not a miracle worker_

Chris huffs and pockets his phone. He supposes it would be too much to ask Jim to follow McCoy's recommended diet (and Jon to enforce it). Leonard will just have to take care of that little problem himself.

A pang of anxiety comes on the tail-end of such a thought, causing him to grasp his cup a little tighter than normal. He manages to breathe through it. Chris thinks he is getting better at handling these spikes of fear, although deep down he knows there would be merit to seeking a professional's opinion on the matter. But he doesn't want Jim to start worrying about him or for Jim to think he must postpone his leaving because Chris is likely to have a panic attack when he does. Jonathan has already assured Pike that he will keep Jim in his sights as much as he can, and to be honest that is the only reason Chris is able to let Jim move out again, panic attacks or not. It might be that he can no longer protect Jim, but he trusts that Archer can and will do so in his stead.

"I hear Captain Liu put you on Palmetto Row."

The voice interrupting Chris's inner musing isn't an unexpected one but still startles him nonetheless. Chris starts to lift the coffee mug to his mouth out of habit to hide his surprise only to realize there isn't coffee in it yet to sip. So he offers the newcomer a welcoming smile instead, replying in his most congenial voice, "She did. Mind if I pick your brain about it later?"

Alexander Marcus lets the door to the break room close behind him. "Be my guest, Chris." He collects a small styrofoam cup and loads it with sweetener in preparation for the coffee that's still brewing. "Were my notes legible enough?"

"They were," Chris agrees, pausing slightly afterwards. "Alex. I want you to know—"

Marcus raises a hand without looking at him. "No need to apologize. You're the best detective on the force."

"Don't sell yourself short. You taught me a lot of what I know," Chris counters.

Marcus turns around, then, a hint of a smile on his face. "I did—which is why I am able to bow out gracefully."

Chris promises, "I'll do my best."

Marcus nods. "I know you will." Then his stance relaxes, his voice becomes the friendlier tone Chris is used to hearing. "We had a little mishap with one of the rookies and the drunk tank a couple of weeks back. Too bad you missed it." The man chuckles. "It did remind me of how your son spent his fifteenth birthday party, though. Remember that, Chris?"

Pike grimaces. "I'm not lucky enough to forget."

Alex cuts a glance in his direction. "Doreen kept us up-to-date on Jim's progress but I say there's no substitute like hearing it from you. How is he?"

"Recovering better than his old man," Chris murmurs, pushing down another pang of anxiety.

"Hm," the other detective remarks in a non-committal fashion, placing the full decanter onto the counter and pouring himself a cup. He claps Pike on the shoulder as he passes by. "If you need a listening ear, I have two."

"Thanks, Lieutenant." Chris drags air into his lungs and makes a snap decision. "I'll be working Palmetto this afternoon, need to get the lay of the land for the case... but I am free now if you can spare your lunch hour." He thinks it might benefit him to vent some of his frustration—and his fear—to someone who would understand. Marcus might have a perspective to balance his own. He hopes so.

Marcus considers him momentarily, then nods. "An excellent idea. Let me grab my coat."

Chris watches the older man leave and fills his cup to the brim with black coffee. Perhaps this first day back won't be so difficult to endure after all.

* * *

Lunch was a quick affair at one of the favored diners in the area by the city's cops. Chris ended up telling Marcus more of his personal fears than he meant to, but it felt good to relieve the weight of his burdens, so to speak. He talked about Jim's pain-filled first two weeks, about being unable to sleep for fear that something would happen to Jim and how that led to fighting between father and son because of Pike's overbearing protectiveness. Strangely, however, each time Chris started to mention Jonathan's name and how good it had been to have someone support him through the crisis, he stopped himself. In a way, he supposed bringing up Archer would make Marcus question who Archer was—and that would inevitably lead back to the circumstances of Jim's attack. Throughout the meal, Chris had already carefully side-stepped some of Marcus's pointed questions about how the investigation was going (did they identify the assailants? had Jim been targeted at random? why?), claiming he didn't have much information given that he was the victim's father, instead of the detective in charge of the investigation.

But he did remark, just once, "I think it would be better if I don't involve myself overly much. I know what I would do if I found those bastards."

Alex had nodded gravely upon hearing this. "You may be right, Chris. It's a different game when it's your own."

Which is why Chris had needed to hear this from Alexander Marcus in particular. Five years ago, Alex's daughter Carol had been crossing the street to catch up with some friends and been struck down by a drunk driver. With her pelvis shattered, the recovery and rehabilitation had been brutal—and Marcus had been the coldest, most relentless Chris had ever seen him. To this day, Alex rarely talks about the accident or the fact that the case still remains unsolved, despite every rock their department had overturned and the reward money they had all chipped in to offer for information leading to an arrest and conviction.

The lunch ended on a less bitter note, with Marcus telling Pike the story of the rookie and the drunk tank along with a few other hilarious events he missed, and they parted on good terms.

Now Chris is on Palmetto Row, the name of the downtown street catering to little vintage shops that have seen way too much criminal activity in the past month. Contrary to his usual investigative style, Pike starts with the latest robbery and works his way backwards down the list. As he gathers information from the shop owners (or verifies what Marcus had already noted), he jots down a few thoughts of his own, additional questions or speculations he needs to address with the lab or some of the informants he has garnered over the years. Unfortunately there is no particular pattern which jumps out at him as he reviews the material other than the basic motive of some young punks desiring to start their criminal careers. That leaves him shaking his head in consternation. Maybe it was gang-related activity?

As he is pondering this angle while exiting the second-to-last store he had planned to visit, a familiar prickling starts between his shoulder blades. He developed the sense for being watched about his fifth year as a police officer, and rarely has it led him astray. He walks a few more steps before abruptly turning around on the sidewalk. However there is nothing out of the ordinary: a woman and child leaving a parked car; a traffic officer writing a parking ticket; a kid in a hoodie zooming along on a skateboard.

Chris shakes his head and keeps going. It could be nothing, maybe a curious bystander staring at him for too long.

The final and very first victim is a high-end pawn shop situated between a local art gallery and a children's clothing store. As Pike enters the pawn shop, the feeling of being watched immediately dissipates, leaving him face to face with a young man snapping gum between his teeth. The clerk doesn't seem interested in anything but his comic book until Chris flashes his badge. Then the guy calls the owner up to the front of the store. They recount the morning of the incident, when they had opened shop only to discover it had been vandalized and robbed during the night.

As the owner walks Chris around the shop, showing him the new window installations and the broken security camera in the corner, the man points out, "I told all this to that grisly-looking detective."

"I'm taking over the case from Lieutenant Marcus," Chris explains. "I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me today. I know it can be exasperating, having to answer the same questions again."

The owner shrugs slightly. "I just want to feel safe, Detective. Thought it was bad enough that my windows got smashed up but now people are being cautious about shopping in this area. It's hurting my business."

"I can understand. The Chief of Police, in conjunction with my captain, mandated nightly patrols for most of the downtown, which seems to have curtailed the activity for now." He doesn't mention the nightly patrols had only begun recently. "Don't worry, though," he adds with feeling, "we _will_ catch these punks."

The man looks at Pike for a second, chewing the inside of his cheek. "For some reason," he says at length, "I believe you."

"Good." Chris checks his watch. "I won't keep you any longer." He closes his notebook and pockets it, offering his hand for the owner to shake. "Thank you again for your time, sir. I or another officer may come by with more questions."

"Okay if you do."

Chris leaves the pawn shop then, sighing as the door swings shut behind him. "Careful, Chris," he reminds himself softly, "don't make promises you can't keep."

When he returns to his squad car, he radios into the station then takes his notebook out again. Flipping through it, he wonders if there's a chance he could make it to a steak dinner after all. Normally Pike tries not to take his work home but if it means he can have one more meal with Jim, he may just need to. Plus, wouldn't it be smart to have a second pair of eyes look over these files? Archer would love that. It would be just like their Academy days.

Having convinced himself, he dials Doreen. She informs that Liu is tied up in a meeting, so Chris leaves a message with her that he won't be returning to the station until morning and can be reached on his cell if anyone needs him. Doreen is happy to pass on the message, saying, "I know how much you're going to miss Jimmy, Chris. Have dinner with him—and pinch his cheeks for me! Tell him I want to meet that boyfriend of his!"

Chuckling, Pike hangs up and fits his car key into the ignition. It's only then that a flash in the rearview mirror catches Pike's attention: sunlight glinting off metal—a chain around someone's neck. The chain's owner stands half-obscured in shadow at the mouth of an alley between the pawn shop and the art gallery. Pike makes a quick appraisal of the fellow before returning his gaze forward—only, in the next instant, to snap back to the reflection. Before his brain has finished processing every tiny detail, he is reaching for the door handle, jerking the key out of the ignition. Heart is in his throat, he hurries across the street. Instinct prompts him to unsnap the tab that keeps his weapon secured in his hostler beneath his jacket.

 _Blue._

The swirling pattern beneath the necklace had been blue.

By the time Pike is inside the alleyway, the tattooed man is gone.

Chris stays close to the brick wall, gaze intently skimming his surroundings. His fingers twitch at his side from the sudden adrenaline rush and the mad dash across the street. Sweat begins to cool at his temples. He reaches inside his jacket, briefly touching the butt of his gun, but does not draw it.

Could it have been his imagination? A delusion brought on by his fierce desire to have someone to punish for his son's pain?

Suddenly a trash can tips over midway down the alley and a cat darts into a stack of torn cardboard boxes. Pike releases the breath he had been holding, leans against the wall and closes his eyes in relief.

Would someone follow a police officer in broad daylight? Not likely. No one—especially not an experienced mob boss like Nero—is that stupid.

Chris straightens up and slowly travels the length of the alleyway, hands fisted at his sides. He is almost convinced his imagination had gotten the better of him when he reaches the very end of the narrow alley. But there, a sagging rusted door without a knob stands oddly ajar.

Pike stares at it for a long moment, until his gut poses a question of _what if_ that he cannot ignore. He takes out his gun, nudges the door open with a foot, and disappears inside.

* * *

Archer wakes up with his heart pounding and his mouth dry, and rolls over to find an empty side of the bed. In the darkness of the bedroom, his hand brushes across a wrinkle-free pillow case and covers. Sitting up, he turns on the nightstand's lamp and looks around, the scene becoming more and more obvious. Pike hasn't come home.

He picks up the digital clock; it reads just after midnight. Shuddering once, Jon throws back the covers and pads barefoot to the bathroom. After he rinses away the sweat of a nightmare he can't remember, he returns to the bed.

But there's no point in laying down. He won't settle until he hears from Chris.

Retrieving his phone from a discarded pair of jeans, he dials Pike's cell number. The call goes to voicemail.

"Shit," he mutters softly after an attempt to call Pike's desk phone at the station fares no better. Did Chris really land a case on his first day back that required an all-nighter? Pike had said he might be working late but that didn't sound like 'until the cock crows' to Jon. And at the very least, the man is conscientious enough to leave a text message so no one would worry about him.

Now Jonathan is worried. As he has a moment's debate on what to do next, someone quietly taps upon the bedroom door.

Jon opens it to find a sleepy Jim blinking at him. Kirk murmurs something under his breath and steps past Jon as if sleepwalking. He heads into the bedroom, calling, "Dad?"

As Jon expects, Jim stops dead in the middle of the room.

"Dad?" Jim repeats, this time with more coherency.

"No Dad," Jon confirms, scratching at his head. "He must be at work?" He waits for a response but Kirk just stands there, back to him, in silence.

Sighing, he says, "C'mon, Jim, go back to bed."

Jim turns around. "Did he call you?"

"No." Jon considers the kid's pensive expression with a pang of guilt. "But he is probably working a late shift. Got a lot of catching up to do, you know."

"Not if he didn't call," insists Pike's son. Kirk seems to hesitate, then, rubbing at one of his arms. He starts for the bathroom door, stops, and turns around, going back into the hallway.

Jonathan follows him on instinct, because he saw a glimpse in Jim's eyes that he doesn't like. "Where are you going?" he wants to know when Jim bypasses his own bedroom.

Jim picks up a coat discarded across the back of the couch in the living room.

"Kirk," Jon calls more sharply, striding ahead to plant himself in the path to the front door.

"I'm going to the station," Jim finally replies. He stares Jon down with that implacable look still in his eyes. "Give me your keys."

Jon shakes his head, saying, "Can't, kiddo," then drags in an uncertain breath, coming to a decision that Pike will probably kill him for later. " _We_ are going to the station. I'll drive."

Kirk's implacable look wavers—and he nods. "Just a sec." After going to the kitchen, Jim returns with a pair of sneakers in hand.

Jon rouses the snoring dog in Pike's recliner while Jim dons his shoes. "Porthos, you're in charge now."

Porthos makes a grumpy noise and turns over to go back to sleep.

Jonathan runs his hands over his face and finds an outfit suitable to wear for a middle-of-the-night trip to a downtown police station. "After you," he says once he and Kirk are both ready. Then he locks the deadbolt on the front door behind them and stops on the front stoop long enough to watch Kirk's tall, somewhat bony figure cut through the darkness to the truck parked in the driveway.

A feeling of foreboding presses down on him. A twist in his gut says something's wrong.

Pike is not home.

Why hasn't he come home?


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

The night-shift receptionist is new and apparently not up-to-date on the family tree of every officer in the department. Jon thinks this can be the only reason for the guy's stupidity, because when he denies Kirk and Archer entrance to the bullpen, Kirk gapes at him like an open-mouthed fish.

The receptionist gives them both a disinterested look. "If you need to speak to an officer or report a crime, I can assist you."

"But I come here all the time! Detective Pike is my dad," Jim explains, belligerence slowly taking the place of his surprise.

This young man isn't impressed with such reasoning. " _I_ don't know that. Identification, please."

The flare in Kirk's eyes is a warning sign that Jon recognizes. He settles a hand on the boy's shoulder and intervenes before things turn ugly. "We're here to see the detective. How about give him a buzz for us? I'm sure this misunderstanding will be cleared up shortly thereafter."

"I need a legitimate reason," insists the guy.

Jon grabs Kirk by the shirt collar and drags him back before Jim finishes launching himself (albeit pointlessly) at the bullet-proof glass of the receptionist's station. Bracing his forearm against the slim counter, he smiles—and flips open his Sheriff's badge, pressing it to the glass. "This is all the reason you need, son. Go get Pike."

The young man straightens in his chair, eyes widening. "Yes, sir, I mean—" He squints at the badge. "—Mr. Archer?"

"Sheriff," Jon corrects flippantly. To Kirk, he murmurs, "This one's definitely a newbie."

"But there's a problem, Sheriff," the guy goes on to say, after fiddling with the laptop in front of him and frowning. "Detective Pike isn't here. That is, according to the time-keeping system he _is_ , he's really not. But I couldn't clock him out because I can't do that in the system, and Doreen forgot to before she left, and so he's in."

Jonathan closes his eyes briefly. "Is he here in person or not?"

"No, sir."

Jim has calmed down. "Then where is he?"

The guy adjusts his glasses and blinks owlishly at them. "Home, I guess."

"That would be a no," Jon replies in a flat tone, "since we came here from Pike's _house_ to find him."

Now the receptionist is the one scratching his head. "Then... he's not a home?"

Jon whirls around, resisting the strong urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, and mutters a series of indelicate words under his breath. He turns to Kirk with the permission, "Okay, do it your way."

Jim pivots on a heel and strides down the hallway.

The receptionist rises from his chair in alarm. "Wait a minute, you can't just—!"

"I'm a sheriff," Jon cuts in. "I can damn well do what I want." He follows Kirk.

Jim stops at the security door, glances around, and slips something out of his pocket. The door unlocks and opens, and they're through, easy as pie.

Jonathan lengthens his stride to catch up the quick-paced Kirk. "Do I want to know how you acquired that keycard?"

"No, and don't tell Dad."

"Uh-huh, because your father would be _totally_ surprised that you can break into the precinct whenever you want," Jon retorts dryly.

Jim, unexpectedly, flashes a grin. "I'm pretty sure Dad left it lying around so I could steal it."

That... would boggle Jon's mind if he didn't already have a good idea of how the Pike-Kirk dynamic worked. From that perspective, it makes absolute sense that in figuring Jim would find a way in on his own, Pike made it painless for the both of them. He supposes Chris has learned some lessons well after parenting a kid like Kirk for years.

Jon figures he shouldn't be outwardly approving (despite his little inner devil laughing heartily) so he says, "Forget I asked."

Jim leads them unerringly to the bullpen, where it looks like any graveyard shift in law enforcement. Of the two people actually on duty, one of them is resting his head on a stack of case files, drooling, and the other is texting like it's the end of the world. Neither seem to care enough to investigate who has joined them.

Jim's pace slows down as he cuts corners around the organized hatchback pattern of desks. Then he stops at one in particular.

If Archer had not already guessed whose desk it must be, the neatly arranged photographs of Jim along the top shelf of the cubicle would have solved the mystery. Jon reaches over and picks up one of them, raising an eyebrow. "So you _did_ have an awkward teenager phase. Look at that hair!"

Jim steals the photo, barely glancing at it as he replaces it. "Dad's not here."

"Nor has been for a while," Jon adds.

Jim looks at him. "How can you know that?"

He points out the various clues. "Congealed coffee, powered-down computer, all his pens in a row."

Jim nods absently. "Yeah, Dad does that. He always lines up his pencils and stuff before leaving his desk. It's so weird."

Jon almost smiles. "It's Pike. He had that habit at the Academy too." Jon used to tease his classmate about this OCD tendency, but frankly it's one of the many little quirks about Chris that attracted Jon to him.

Not that he needs to tell Jim that part. It might make him look sentimental.

Jim shoves his hands into his pajama pockets. "How do we find him?"

Jonathan is a little taken aback by Kirk's willingness to defer to his authority. Then again, he has never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Angling his body slightly, he lifts two fingers to his mouth, and lets out a shrill whistle.

The sleeping officer wakes up with an indelicate snort, and Mr. Phone pauses mid-text.

"You and you," Jon calls, singling them out, "come over here."

"Huh?" bleats the napper, looking confused.

Phone Guy is warier of strangers. "How did you two get in here?"

Jim steps around Archer, saying to the man rubbing his eyes, "Hey, Phil."

Phil squints briefly, then his entire face lights up. "Jimmy!" The man shoves away from his desk. To the other officer, he says, "This is Pike's kid."

Finally the other guy lays down his phone. " _The_ kid? Oh man," he says, hurrying to catch up to Phil and, oddly enough, pumping Kirk's hand enthusiastically. "I've been wanting to meet you!"

"Uh," Jim says, turning a little shy, "you were?"

"Sorry I didn't know recognize you, though I probably should have. Your dad has like album on his desk." The guy gives a self-deprecating laugh. "I'm new here."

Phil claps his companion on the shoulder. "Jim, this is Carlos. He started three weeks ago. Oh hey, have I got a story for you! Carlos had to take his first 'public disturbance' to the drunk tank and—"

Carlos turns red. "Don't tell him that story."

"But it's classic!" Phil argues.

"It sounds cool," Jim agrees, "but is it okay to hear it later? I really need to find Dad right now."

Jon feels bad for Phil, who is obviously disappointed about not being able to share a funny anecdote of a rookie. Jim does have a point, though. Distractions are not welcome just yet.

He holds out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Officers. Sheriff Archer, at your service."

Carlos looks wary again. "Of what county?"

"Let's just say a neighboring one," Jon supplies.

Jim seems to think it necessary to butt in. "The sheriff is a friend of Dad's from like thirty years ago. He's... visiting with us. Briefly."

Jonathan doesn't like that explanation one bit but now isn't the time to gainsay it.

"I was kind of hoping Dad would come home for dinner," Jim continues on, "but he must have had to work." The skin around his eyes tightens. "It's really late now, and I can't reach him by the phone."

"That is weird," Phil agrees. "I know your dad. Everybody knows he likes to be home by ten to tuck you in."

Jim grins like that is a joke.

Carlos eyes Pike's son as if he has grown a second hand. "Aren't you a little too old for that?"

"By two decades," Jon points out.

Jim shoots back at him, "You're just jealous."

Now it is Jon's turn to grin. "Oh, I don't think so, kid." He imagines all the various ways that Pike has 'tucked him in'. Sadly he can't make a lewd remark in front of the innocents without Jim punching his lights out.

Neither of them needs to go to jail tonight. Chris would blow a gasket.

He turns his attention back to Carlos and Phil. "Who do I have to ask to find out where Pike went?"

The two officers exchange a look.

"I don't care if it's ass o'clock in the morning," he adds.

Phil's hesitance is unusual. "Captain Liu knows best. She keeps a pulse on every officer in the department but, uh, I wouldn't recommend—"

Jon whips out his cell phone. "Give me her number."

Jim recites it dutifully, then just shrugs when the look Jon gives him is full of disbelief and _you had this information the whole time but didn't tell me?_

As Jonathan dials the number, all three men around him suddenly take a large step back as though they expect fireworks or an exploding cell phone, causing Jon to experience second doubts about calling Pike's boss. Unfortunately the phone is already ringing, and a feminine voice, deeper than normal, answers on the fourth ring.

Archer takes a deep breath. "Captain Liu? This is—"

He is cut off by " _Has the mayor been murdered?_ "

"Uh, no?"

" _Did someone bomb the City Council Chambers?_ "

"I don't know where that is, ma'am."

" _Then I don't give a flying fuck, understand?_ " The voice on the other end is definitely growling now. " _Don't call this phone again before sunrise!_ "

Phil mouthes, _Warned you._ Jim, arms folded across his chest, just shakes his head. Carlos winces on Archer's behalf.

Jon clears his throat. "I'm sorry but—"

The line goes dead.

He peels the phone away from his ear and stares at it in surprise.

Phil explains sympathetically, "The Captain told us on her first day on the job that if we call her in the middle of the night, she'll serve us our balls."

Jon can only think of one question to ask: "But what if someone did murder the mayor?"

"Then she would tell you to handle it and have her espresso ready at 8 am sharp. You have to be on her list of people she'll take a call from after midnight, and from what I know that list is extremely short. Like her husband and kids only or something."

It sounds like Liu has a pair of steel balls of her own if she won't be moved by anything short of disaster or family. Jon takes a moment to wonder if Chris has charmed her to that extent. If anyone could, it would be him. However, thinking about that—and remembering why, unlike Liu, he isn't in bed at this godforsaken hour—spurs him to hit the redial button.

Jim's eyes widen.

Carlos blurts out, "Are you stupid? Why are you calling her back?"

Phil backs all the way up until he hits the edge of a desk, waving his hands frantically in a silent gesture of _Don't do it!_

This time Liu picks up quickly with a low snarl of " _Who is this?_ ", but Archer is prepared.

"Captain," he says in a slight rush, "you know what I don't give a flying fuck about? Your beauty sleep. But for the sake of courtesy, I'll keep this short and sweet. There's a situation at your precinct. Get here. _Now_." He hangs up.

Officer Phil's expression is a cross between horror and fascination. The rookie, Carlos, does a slow clap.

Jon tries to ignore the fact that his heart is racing as if he had just faced off with a mean pitbull who wanted to eat him for dinner and the owner had left the gate to the yard open. Yeah, he really thinks he just invited Liu to shoot him on sight. She probably will—after she crushes his boy parts under a boot heel.

"Whoa," Jim summarizes. "You're dead. _So_ dead."

Archer grimaces. "Guess I'll have to be. At my funeral, tell Pike it was all for him."

That has the effect of sobering Kirk. "Thank you, Sheriff."

The sincerity is real; Jon can see it in Jim's eyes, which eases his worry a bit. He nods and tucks his cell phone away.

Carlos is the only one still looking at him kind of strangely. "You're making a big deal about Pike. Why?"

Archer is silent for a moment, considering how much to divulge of his suspicions. Since it's likely he will have to tell Liu that and more just to prevent his early demise, he decides the reality cannot be denied much longer anyway. Still, trying to blunt about it is like ripping off a bandaid; it hurts.

"You have a fellow officer who's unaccounted for." Jon glances at Kirk, who doesn't move, doesn't look upset or afraid except for a very faint lightening of his pallor. "I would say that is a huge deal."

Carlos nods slowly. "Then how do we proceed, Sheriff?"

Suddenly it isn't only Jim looking to Archer for direction but these officers, Pike's brothers-in-arms, as well. In a way that makes Jon feel old despite how appreciative he is that his expertise is valued.

"Turn around," he orders.

The men looked confused.

He edges open one of the drawers to Pike's desk, clarifying, "You don't want to see this. Plausible deniability, gentlemen."

They all quickly put their backs to him, Carlos returning to his desk and his cell phone while Phil pretends to need to use the bathroom. Jonathan stares a moment longer at Jim's stiff back, but Jim thankfully does not turn around or question the orders.

Satisfied, he sits in Chris's chair, slides out the top desk drawer and begins to riffle through the paperwork therein. Something of Pike's new case has to be around here to give him an idea of what situation Chris might have been involved in today.

If they are lucky, the information will be a road straight to Pike.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Archer is musing over what he suspects is the case Pike started working on when the double doors to the bullpen slam open, admitting one woman looking like a cat dunked in water and rubbed the way. Her flip-flops slap against the floor as she stalks forward. Jon has just enough time to shove the manila folder under a nearby stack of papers and brace against the desk before the newcomer barrels through their group, effectively scattering everyone but him. Her attire, a faded t-shirt and sweatpants, is hardly intimidating but her gaze promises a grisly death. It's the first time he has seen a woman bare her teeth like a wild animal.

His hands go up in an automatic defensive gesture.

"YOU," she snarls.

Jon laughs nervously. "Me?"

In the next second, this woman (who can be none other than Captain Liu) has him pinned by his jacket lapels.

"You have five seconds to explain yourself!" she snaps at him.

Jon opens his mouth, really only thinking he ought to beg for forgiveness instead of explain, but to his surprise, Jim wraps a hand around Liu's arm and says in the saddest voice Jon has ever heard from him, "Mrs. Liu?"

Liu turns to stare at Kirk, an arrested look blanketing the fire in her eyes. "Jim?" She lets go of Jon. "What are you doing here?"

Jim releases her arm and shuffles his feet like a small child. "Dad didn't come home."

Liu frowns. "That's not possible."

"Clearly it is," Jon interjects.

Liu whips her head back in his direction, her tone of voice far less friendly. But she surmises, an ode to her intelligence, "You called me here because of Pike?"

"Yes, ma'am."

The woman steps back and eyes both males critically before surveying her two officers, who are trying to look inconspicuous at their desks. "Doreen told me this afternoon that Pike planned to take off early." She focuses again on Jim. "I assumed he wanted to have dinner with you before you left town."

Everyone but Liu pointedly looks away from the sudden glassy sheen to Jim's eyes. Kirk asks the woman plaintively, "So why didn't he?"

She presses her mouth into a thin line. "I can't speak for what your father does off-duty, Jim."

Jon steps forward. "Are you hundred percent certain he made it that far?"

"Meaning what, Sheriff?"

Jon is taken aback. "How did you know I'm—"

"You're Sheriff Jonathan Archer. I make it a point to know what I'm walking into. Now, what were you saying about Detective Pike?"

Jon glances at the listening ears (namely Jim's) and offers her a polite smile. "Why don't we take this discussion into your office?"

She considers that request for too long before pivoting around and heading for her office.

When Jon presses a hand to Jim's chest when Jim starts to tag along, Jim's expression changes instantly from worried to edgy bordering on angry.

"I will punch you," he warns Jon in a low tone, "if you tell me to stay out of this."

"I'm not telling you to stay out of this, Kirk. But in case you haven't noticed, that woman is still pissed. If she's going to help us at all, I need to let her kick me around a little to make amends—and frankly I would rather not have an audience when she does."

Some of Kirk's anger vanishes. "Greta won't hurt you physically," he assures Jon. "Her preferred method of attack is more psychological in nature."

"Great," Jon deadpans. "Just what I need, more damage to my psyche."

Jim looks him over. "You are kind of messed up."

Before Jon can respond to that, Liu snaps from her office doorway, "Archer, get your ass over here!"

Jon sighs. "I hear my fate calling. Excuse me. Why don't you go break into a security system or something? This shouldn't take long."

Jim rolls his eyes but steps back, saying, "Convince her."

He promises, "If I can't, we'll find another way."

"I know we will," is Jim's only reply. Then Pike's son walks away, back to the set of doors leading to the hallway. Jon wonders if he is going to pester the receptionist again but decides it would be better not to know.

Liu is waiting, already seated behind her desk, looking less wrathful but somehow more intimidating.

Jon hesitates in the doorway. "Should I bring you coffee first?"

"Quit stalling."

He comes inside and shuts the door behind him. He doesn't sit down because he would rather take his beating standing up. He does have some pride.

"We haven't been introduced properly," Liu begins, strangely enough. "I'm Gretchen Liu, captain of this precinct."

"Jonathan Archer," he replies. "Sheriff."

"Not of this county," she remarks, "which is why I have a long list of questions for you. For the sake of time I will ask only two. You're interested in my detective's whereabouts. Why? And what business do you have with his son?"

She doesn't mince words, this captain. Jon can respect that. "Christopher Pike is an old friend of mine. I'm staying at his family home."

Her gaze sharpens. "That sounds like a personal interest—as well as a conflict of duties, given that you're overseeing Kirk's assault case."

"It just happened that way."

"Which part?"

Jon's temper flares. "Now isn't the time to grill me on my choice of acquaintances. It's extremely possible that you have a missing person's case. Pike doesn't skip off into the wild blue yonder without telling someone, and what he did tell you doesn't add up to what actually happened!" Shit, does he really have to spell this out for her?

Liu leans back in her chair. "I'm well-aware of Detective Pike's habits. You are too, it seems."

Jon rakes a hand through his hair. "Listen. I know I forced you to break one of your personal rules. You don't like me. I get that." He steps right up to her desk. "But this is about Pike, not me." Pointing at the window, covered by blinds, he clarifies, "It's about that kid out there who can't sleep until he knows where his dad is. Give me _something_ here, Liu."

"It's Captain," she corrects him, "and you know the laws as well as I do, Sheriff. The average missing persons case isn't investigated until twenty-four hours or more have passed."

"If the absence is unusual or you have reason to suspect foul play, you don't have to wait to make that report or investigate it." Archer leans toward her. "Time is the most critical factor, especially for a missing cop. You _should_ know that."

Something strange flickers through Liu's gaze. She angles her chair away, crossing her legs. "Give me evidence. A reasonable suspicion."

"What was Pike working on?"

"I can't share that."

He stops himself from slamming his fists down on her desk, but it's a near thing. "Damn you! How can we help each other if you block me at every turn?"

"Do _not_ ," the woman answers frostily, turning back to him, "assume I am playing a power game with you right now. You demanded I come here, and I did. You tell me I could have a detective missing, and I'm willing to listen to your theories. Why? Because Pike is one of _mine_. He matters to this department, and he matters to me. I am not working against you—but I will not simply throw out the rule book and disregard the system to appease your need for faster results."

Jonathan locks his jaw and straightens up.

She finishes, "We can work together on this, Sheriff, but not solely on your terms. Respect my house or get out."

He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I apologize, Captain. I overstepped."

"Apology accepted. Now, let's cut the shit, shall we?"

"My sentiments exactly," he replies in a grim tone. "Where do we start?"

"By locating Pike or securing that evidence, whichever comes first. I noticed his truck is still in the parking lot."

So had Jon. Yet another thing that had sent a shiver down his spine.

Liu comes out of her chair, then, striding for the door to her office. "We can track the cruiser he used today."

Archer falls into step with her. "What can _I_ do?"

She pauses, even as the other officers and Kirk, who had returned to the bullpen in the interim, gather around. The look she gives Jon is somewhat unsettling. "As another officer of the law? At the moment, nothing. As a civilian worried about his friend..."

"A search of my own," Jon supplies, understanding the hint. He turns to the other officers. "Hope you fellas don't mind a tail."

Jim steps forward. "I'm going with you."

Jon balks at the idea, but only because he knows how difficult it will be to keep Kirk leashed and search for Pike at the same time. And if they happened to come across an unpleasant scene...

Liu must really be on his side, for she tells Kirk, "One of you should stay here in case additional information comes into the station."

Jim looks momentarily torn, then seems to accept his fate.

Jon feels a pang at the way Kirk's shoulders curve downward and the young man's head droops. "I'll keep you updated," he offers.

Jim's head comes up again. "How? A live broadcast?"

Oh boy. "If you think you can stand hearing me talking for hours on end."

"Sure," Jim insists, appearing not to get the message, "I can do that."

"Wonderful," Jon mutters. Oddly, in a way, he is relieved. At least by talking to Jim he can keep tabs on him too.

Liu orders, "Phil, wake up Danvers. No one goes un-partnered outside this station. Carlos, you're our home-base. Start by calling the hospitals."

"We already checked the accident reports from today," Carlos adds. "No one matching Pike's description was admitted in the last day."

Liu nods her approval. To Archer, she remarks, "It will take me a half an hour to run the GPS for the cruiser. In the meantime," here her gaze encompasses Kirk as well, "keep your hands to yourself and sit tight."

Good thing Jon already gave Pike's desk a thorough scouring. By Liu's expression, she must suspect they have already broken more than a few of the house rules before her arrival. She wouldn't be wrong.

"Well," Jon says, rubbing his hands together after Pike's boss vacates the area, "who wants to play Go Fish?"

* * *

As Jonathan finishes saying, "Coming up to a stop sign... slowing down now..." he hears " _I regret this._ "

Grinning, he presses the radio button once more and laughs like a maniac. "Too bad, kiddo. You said you wanted a by-blow."

" _Up yours._ "

"Aw," he teases, "you care—or was that a sexual innuendo?"

Jim's hiss through the radio speaker is like static. That tickles Jon because they both know Jim can't hang up on him without admitting defeat. Jon has Kirk right where he wants him.

But apparently not his truck. He swerves slightly to avoid a collision with a car at the four-way stop because he isn't fast enough to take his turn and the other car decides to go ahead.

Jim has surprisingly acute hearing. " _What was that?_ " comes the demand.

Jon says somewhat sheepishly, "The avoidance of a minor collision."

" _You're an idiot_ ," complains Pike's son. " _Eyes on the road._ "

Kirk needs to stop channeling his father. "Hey, who's the boss here?"

" _Me._ "

Well, he should have seen that answer coming. Of course Kirk thinks he is in charge. Jon may be the Big Bad Sheriff heading up the investigative work but Jim would definitely consider himself the puppet-master pulling the strings. He has the attitude of a punk and the ego of a senior sergeant. It would be a killer combination for someone on the force.

Jon shocks himself by thinking that and quickly focuses his attention on his driving. He cannot allow himself to imagine Jim Kirk following in Pike's footsteps; it's simply as terrifying as it is fitting.

" _Hey, hey? Are you there?_ "

"Yeah," he calls back. "We're coming up on the area, I think." He turns right nearly on the bumper of the police cruiser, his truck's suspension system suddenly having to compensate for the change in terrain from smoothing riding on asphalt pavement to the instability of a dirt road.

Even with the darkness barely alleviated by a half-moon, Jon sees the stretch of trees up ahead and experiences an eerie sense of deja-vu.

"Do you know what's out here?" he questions Kirk.

" _That far north, not much._ " Kirk sounds tense. " _Farmland. Woods._ "

And no reason for Pike to be here, Jon thinks. He doesn't like this. Better to keep Jim talking instead of thinking too much.

"How far to the next town?"

" _Dunno. Fifteen miles, maybe? Hold on, Carlos is going to Google it for us._ "

Up ahead, the police cruiser rolls to a stop at a fork in the road. Jon parks on the opposite side of them. He sees Phil and his partner Danvers exit the vehicle, flashlights already roaming the countryside.

This is a moment he has been dreading. "Kirk, I need to go now."

" _Wait,_ " Jim begins to protest.

"I can't look for your dad and stay on this radio with you at the same time."

Silence. Then, almost as a whisper, Jim pleads, " _I have to know._ "

"Your officer friend will keep the station posted." Jon hesitates. "We might have to walk a ways, so an hour tops—okay?"

There comes another long pause before Jim answers. " _Okay._ "

"Hang in there," Jon tells him and clicks off. He steps out of the truck and heads toward the two officers, an oversized flashlight from a toolbox in his backseat in hand.

"This is the general location, as close as the GPS can tell us," Phil informs him. "The vehicle should be within a radius of a couple miles at most."

"Let's spread out then," Archer suggests. "One of you search this area, another head north on the right fork. Circle back counterclockwise. I'll take the other road." He pauses, then, before adding, "I'm sure I don't need to remind you boys to stay alert. No telling what's out here after dark."

They echo in unison as if they were his own deputies, "Yes, Sheriff."

Jon starts down the dirt road on his left, flashlight held high. Occasionally he sees a footpath stomped into the brush but he isn't tempted to take it. No one could drive a car through that tangled mess without it being obvious.

This desolate place gives him the willies, like some scene come to life out of a horror film in which the boogeyman is hiding in the woods, waiting for the poor dumb bastard who ventures away from his party of friends. Being out here alone, even if he is within shouting distance of the others, makes for a perfect ambush.

That thought stops him in his tracks.

What if that's what this is? Someone leading them into an ambush?

Can't be. Why here? Why use Pike as bait?

The trouble is, he _can_ think of a few reasons. Only those reasons do seem far-fetched for the situation. Pike went out on an investigation. It would be more logical that he saw something to chase down and ended up stranded in a place like this.

Suddenly, a cry of Chris's name builds in his throat. He forces it down, instead making himself focus on the task. Look for the car. The car is the first clue to finding out what happened to Chris.

The dirt road seems to go on forever. Five minutes becomes ten, which becomes twenty. Each time Jon comes upon a turn-off he thinks would be wide enough to squeeze a cruiser down, he investigates it. At one point, he meets a metal gate and a square field beyond. The gate is chained and bolted, with enough clay dust on it to show that it hasn't been unraveled in a long time. Archer moves on.

By his estimate, he has nearly reached the end of the GPS's signal radius. A dead end, then, he surmises.

As he stops in the middle of the road, an owl hoots. Jon lifts his flashlight and skims the trees on either side of the road, tracking the sound.

He knows he should go back now and hope the others had better luck. And what seems endless in darkness can take no time at all to search in daylight.

But he doesn't want to leave. It is as if his legs are stubbornly unwilling to budge another inch. In order to clear his head, he switches off his flashlight and lets the filter of moonlight coat the landscape. When he closes his eyes, he hears the owl again, farther away, and something tiny rustling through the undergrowth nearby. No shouts from the others. No sound of car motors, someone coming to retrieve him because Pike's cruiser has been found.

Is this a wild-goose chase? If he keeps going, against all logic, will he find what he is looking for?

The deciding factor is two-fold: turning his back when Chris could be out here, hurt, alone, needing someone to find him; and having to face Pike's son empty-handed.

"Oh well," he tells the cold night air. "Let's do this, Archer."

He flicks on the flashlight again and keeps going.

* * *

Phil meets Danvers at the car and, by the look on his partner's face, doesn't really need to ask how the search went. He does anyway. "Find anything?"

"Na-da," Danvers replies. "You?"

"A bunch of scary shadows and ugly moss." He jerks open the car door and in frustration whacks the back panel of his laptop seeing by the gear shift. "Maybe this program is screwed up."

"If you hit it like that, compadre, it will be." Danvers climbs into the passenger side. "Are we sure Pike is actually missing and not just killing some time at a bar?"

Phil looks at him askance. "Pike, in a bar, while his sick kid stays home being eaten alive by worry? You can't be serious, Joey."

"Yeah, okay," Danvers concedes. "That doesn't sound like Chris."

"Pigs would sooner fly."

Phil can see that Joey has a question he wants to ask but is uncertain if it is appropriate. Given that he has asked his fair share of inappropriate questions in his lifetime, he prompts, "What's bugging you?"

"I don't know. I have this weird feeling we have been here before. Pike's son was assaulted not long ago, right? Well you remember when Marcus's daughter had her accident..."

"Marcus was AWOL for days."

Danvers nods. "Rumor is he was tearing up the streets looking for that son of a bitch who hit his girl and ran, and he _wasn't_ doing it by the books, if you know what I mean."

Phil guesses, "So you think Pike has gone off-book too?"

The man spreads his hands wide. "Hey, parents and kids. It's a bond you don't fuck with."

As a new father to a pair of cute toddler twins, Phil would agree. Even so, he shakes his head. "Pike's the most level-headed person I know. I'm not saying he wouldn't want an hour alone with the guys responsible, but he's not... that guy. You know what I mean?"

"I guess so."

Phil shuts his car door and reports into the station, telling them the search is still on-going.

Joey gives him a look.

"Sheriff Archer's still out there," Phil reminds him.

"Okay, so _that_ guy seems like the 'leave 'em bloody and dead' type. Why is he here again?"

"Honestly?" Phil replies. "Hell if I know. But the Captain approved it."

Danvers just sighs and points to the road neither of them went down. "He's probably halfway to Kalamazoo by now. We need to bring him back."

Phil has already cranked the engine and pulled onto the dirt road. He drives slowly so he doesn't accidentally run into or over Archer. He starts to worry when his odometer tells him they have gone more than two miles.

"I didn't mean that literally about Kalamazoo," his partner says uneasily. "Where the hell is he?"

Without warning a large shape shoots across the road, scaring the shit of Phil and causing him to swerve the car. He manages not to crash them into the trees.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Danvers curses loudly, having grabbed the handle above the car window.

In the next moment, they are both scrambling out of the car, guns drawn. The shape unbends in the middle and straightens into a man.

Archer, to be exact.

The sheriff looks winded, like he has been running a race. Leaves and twigs are poking out of his hair.

"We almost hit you!" Phil exclaims.

Still panting, Archer flaps a hand at them in some unspoken command.

Danvers looks to Phil for translation. "What is going on?"

"Car," Archer says between deep breaths. "...Woods. There." He points.

And Phil gets it. "Shit," he says, "you found the cruiser!"

Archer nods, and with one last desperate intake of air strides forward to grab Phil's gun arm. "In the woods, about a quarter mile from here. Fuck, I was lucky. I saw your headlights through the trees."

And had, no doubt, sprinted back to the road in order to catch their attention. Damn. They should have given him a flare or something. Thank god the guy didn't suffer a heart attack.

Archer is already dragging him backwards, toward wherever it is that Pike's car resides.

"Pike?" Phil has to know, suddenly anxious.

Archer answers in a gruff tone, "Not there, or gone if he was."

"I'll call it in," Danvers offers, watching them head off into the woods.

Phil follows him along a winding path, questions piling up in his head by the second. Because he isn't able to wait until he sees the car, he asks, "What do you make of it?"

Archer isn't forthcoming with an opinion. It isn't until they arrive at a clearing that Phil can understand why.

The car has been stripped almost bare, inside and out: no wheels, no sirens or headlights, none of the computer equipment used by the department. Behind the car he makes out another dirt road that originates from god-knows-where, winding off into the trees and disappearing from sight.

"What is this?" Phil questions, shocked.

Archer rests a fist on top of the bent hood. "I don't know yet." Then he looks straight at Phil, expression unreadable. "But whoever did this knew what they were taking—and not taking."

"The GPS," Phil catches on. "That's... not good." Very bad in fact, as it implies premeditation.

"An understatement," Archer murmurs. His gaze turns away, his posture stiff in the light of the moon. "Your forensics team better be on their A-game. This isn't a missing persons case anymore."

* * *

When Chris comes to, it is to dull pain and the coppery aftertaste of blood. At first he thinks his sight might be impaired as well, but the lack of light in the room is actually the culprit of his poor vision.

It takes two tries to come to his feet. Even then he staggers back, luckily finding a wall against which to brace himself. The detective in him automatically begins to catalog his state. Lump at the back of the head means he encountered something hard, though his memory fails to say what. The taste of blood is a bitten tongue. The left shoulder is tender to the touch, as if it had been wrenched too hard. He can feel a few cuts on his hands but is unable to tell much else without a mirror.

When Chris looks down, he's startled to discover that his shoes and socks are missing.

A quick pat-down reveals the situation to be more serious than that. His jacket, his car keys, wallet, gun, phone—everything but the clothes on his back is gone, stripped away by some unknown assailant. Has he been robbed?

Keeping a hand against the wall as a guide, Chris moves with care around the space. He counts his steps, realizing as he quickly hits the next wall that this room is smaller than one would imagine. For a moment, a sense of claustrophobia overwhelms him but he manages to shake that off and keep going.

He is a detective, he reminds himself. He is trained to analyze, not to fear the unknown. Whatever situation Chris has landed in, he can handle it. What matters is that he's alive, that he is not critically injured or unable to help himself. The rest can be dealt with in time.

Slowly, methodically, his surroundings take shape. The room is bare, dusty, more than the size of a storage closet but not as large as an average bedroom. The walls are concrete and windowless. There is one door.

It's here that Christopher expends most of his energy, for the door is metal with a small barred window in the middle. The area behind the door is darker than the room, an un-revealing pitch black that unnerves him. Chris tries the handle, only to find that the door won't budge. He tries a second time with both hands and his uninjured shoulder to make certain the door isn't simply rusted in place.

Locked, he decides. Since he can feel no mechanism on the interior, it must be locked from the outside.

Stepping back, he runs one hand through his hair, grimacing when he accidentally unearths what feels like a coating of dirt and a few cobweb strands.

The conclusion is obvious for a man of Pike's experience but his brain still balks at the truth even as the facts line up: a blow to knock him unconscious, his relocation to a sealed room and the removal of all potential weapons, identification, and communication. Taking the shoes seems like overkill but it isn't unheard-of.

Lastly, there is the door, which is the room's only exit, is constructed to withstand brute force, and is barred from the outside.

"Shit," he says succinctly.

He thinks he's been kidnapped.


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**

Steam rises into the morning air. Jon cradles the paper cup in his hand more for something to do rather than for warmth. Right now, there isn't anything in the world that could warm the coldness inside him.

He pretends to sip at his cooling coffee (provided by Officer Phil on his return from the station) and watches the scene unfold in front of him. Kirk gesticulates with barely contained anger. Liu responds in a cool, collected fashion. Wash, rinse, repeat. A few minutes later, Jim, having lost his argument, tucks his hands into his armpits and glowers at the retreating woman's back. He pivots and with a grudging shuffle across the forest floor heads in Archer's direction.

Jon lowers his cup when Jim arrives, stating preemptively, "No."

Jim glowers at him too. "You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I'm sure it was a suggestion of something dumb, dangerous, or both."

"Fuck you, Archer."

"That's 'fuck you, Sheriff'," he responds in his mildest tone. He has been learning a thing or two from Liu.

Jim kicks at the grass.

Jon sighs internally. "You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you."

"I found it. I had to give a statement."

Kirk closes his eyes and looks away.

Jon feels inexplicably bad. "Jim, these people know how to do their jobs. Your prowling the area is only making them jumpy."

Jim shoves his fingers through his hair so hard Jon sympathizes with the kid's scalp.

"I'm not trying to hinder anyone," Kirk counters, his angry posture having collapsed a little. "I just... I have to _know._ "

"I get it," Jon says, because to him Jim simply looks scared, not scary. "I have no idea what to tell you, son. This investigation and wrap-up will take a few hours before they can move the car to the lab. If a report is ready by noon, it would be a miracle." He hesitates, wanting nothing more than anything to stay and observe Liu's operation. "I'll drive you back to the station."

Jim doesn't respond for a long time. When he does, he only remarks, "I'm not your son."

Jon nods and pours his remaining coffee into the bushes. "Got it. Let's roll."

Jim follows him down the dirt road, away from the police cruisers and lab trucks. Jon figures the kid has to be as sick to his stomach about the turn of events as Jon is but it can't be helped. What they have discovered is unexpected, upsetting, yet what they know about it is very little. This is the worst part of the investigation for someone on the outside of it, the waiting game.

As Jonathan reaches the driver's side of his vehicle, he has determined a temporary solution. He digs out his keys, and they climb inside the truck. "You know," he murmurs as he starts the engine, "McCoy is coming in a few hours."

Kirk freezes in the act of hooking in his seatbelt and swears creatively.

Jon presses on, "Be damned rude thing not to let your boyfriend know what he's walking into."

Jim slumps over a little. "But we don't know anything yet."

"We know that your dad is missing."

Kirk turns silent again, the kind that implies he is thinking very, very hard about his options.

Jon points the truck towards the highway. "My advice would be to call him now and pray he forgives you for not waking him sooner."

"I left my phone at the house."

Jon pulls out his cell and tosses it into the man's lap.

Listening to Jim mutter under his breath about pushy sheriffs, Jon feels one knot of tension in him ease. If he can't keep Kirk from going off the rails, maybe Leonard McCoy can.

The drive back to town is an entertaining one-sided conversation of Jim scaring the shit of his boyfriend by calling him just after the crack of dawn and explaining in stops and starts that Armageddon hasn't happened but something equally frightening has. By the time the phone conversation is done, Kirk looks exhausted yet oddly more collected.

Jon tucks the returned cell phone against the gear shift between them.

"Bones will meet us at the station."

Archer nods, glad to hear. He thinks, _Thank god for the cavalry._

* * *

The cavalry looks like a dead badger somebody revived during a Frankenstein experiment. Jon didn't know it was possible to leave one's house with two mismatched shoes when they're both for the left foot. And he is fairly certain McCoy must have stuck his finger in an electrical socket about five times before donning the first shirt and pair of pants he could find.

Neither Jim or Leonard seem to notice anything amiss with each other's appearance, one in a Hawaiian print shirt over stained medical scrubs and the other still in 1980s plaid pajamas.

Upon arriving, McCoy doesn't barge into the precinct demanding answers like Kirk had done at the scene of the police cruiser. He just makes a beeline for Jim, at the last second swerving so he comes to a stop between Jim, Jon and Carlos, and asks like he is terrified of the answer, "What's going on?" Then when Jim starts to wilt, Leonard grabs onto and cocoons his boyfriend, visibly steeling himself for whatever horrific news the police have to share.

Carlos explains politely, "We don't know much about Pike's disappearance yet. A search is underway."

Jim lifts his head from McCoy's shoulder, adding, "Bones, I have this bad feeling. Dad would never forget to call."

Carlos quietly excuses himself.

Jonathan would step aside too but he can see the questions piling up in Jim's boyfriend's eyes. It looks like he'll be the one to answer them. "You already know Chris started back at work yesterday. He took on a new case, went out for a routine interview, and never made it back to the station or the house. Early this morning, we located his cruiser outside the city... in an unusual condition."

Leonard's arms tighten around Jim. "An accident?"

Jon shakes his head. "Deliberate damage."

Jim pulls back from McCoy, turning on Jon, his expression wavering between shocked and pissed. "You didn't say that before!"

The accusation catches Jon off-guard. "What, that the state of the car is intentional? Well, hell, kid, that's obvious to anybody with two eyes!"

Jim's arm snaps out to grab Jon, his cry of "What do you mean?" ringing clear across the bullpen. Leonard intervenes by forcing Kirk's arm back down to his side.

"Jim, no," McCoy states firmly. Then to Archer, "Clearly you have a few thoughts that you haven't fully shared."

Jon stares at him.

Leonard meets his stare dead-on. "That was not a suggestion, Sheriff."

He doesn't know whether he is miffed or impressed that this one can use his authority against him. Fine, he will give Sourpatch this round. After all, the guy did stop Kirk from strangling him.

"Stolen police and government vehicles which are stripped down for parts nine times out of ten are never found because the GPS tracker is the first thing any street thug in the scrap business knows to rip out. Combine that with the fact we found the car out in the woods, far from any garage. Why bother to haul it out there when the damn thing can be melted down?"

Leonard shakes his head slightly. "You're saying someone _wanted_ the car to be found. But who would do that except a—" The man's mouth snaps shut on the last word but it's too far late.

Jim looks ill. "Except a kidnapper."

Jon clamps a hand on Kirk's shoulder, looking around furtively. "We're not talking definitively, Jim. Liu will make the call when she has more information."

His attempts to stop a rumor from spreading like wildfire is for naught. As if conjured by the mere mention of her name, Captain Liu steps into the precinct and barks to all personnel within hearing distance, "Briefing room, five minutes!" Amidst the sudden flurry of activity, she barrels straight towards Jon, catching his arm to drag him along with her as she orders, "Sheriff Archer, in my office, _now._ "

Being towed as he is, it isn't like he can argue with the woman. It also seems prudent not to mention that Jim and Leonard are right on their heels. The three men crowd into the office and around the desk as Liu shuts the door. She doesn't cross the room.

"I will come to the point." She focuses on Pike's son. "Jim, I'm sorry. Your father is not missing. He was taken. The GPS tracker we recovered will help us approximate where and when but by whom and why still remain unknown. We'll keep you posted as we know more. Given this change, we have some additional questions to ask you. It shouldn't take long. After that I suggest you go home. Rest."

"No," Jim says, then with more denial, "no, Captain, I'm not going anywhere."

"We need you at your house," Liu amends, "in case the kidnappers try to contact you. As I said, we don't know much about their motive right now. I'm not sending you alone."

"Damn right you're not!" Leonard bursts out.

Liu's slicing look says, _I'll figure out who the hell you are later_ , before she returns her attention to Kirk. "A surveillance team will accompany you."

Only a surveillance team? Jon sticks his hands into his jacket pockets so no one can see them shaking. "What makes you confident that he was kidnapped?"

Liu finally looks to him. The gun she draws out of an inner pocket from her coat is not for show. It is encased in a plastic bag along with a small piece of paper. "The firearm is registered to Pike. This, along with a ransom note, was dropped off by the receptionist's station about an hour ago."

"What?" McCoy exclaims. "Someone just waltzed in here and handed you that? Did you see who the bastard was?"

Liu's granite expression is an answer to that.

Jon experiences a surreal moment as he takes the evidence bag and turns it over to see the note. Printed in large font, the message reads, _We have your friend. 2 million or you can bury him._

No information on how to keep in contact, no specified timeframe, nothing except a confirmation that Pike is in someone's possession and his life is worth two million dollars.

Jim tries to read the note. Jon hands it back to Liu and repeats what it says verbatim in a flat voice.

"Oh god," Leonard says, looking green. "Jim..."

Jim stares at Jon. Jon has to look away.

Liu breaks the silence. "Mr. Kirk, I formally request that you and your family cooperate with us in the recovery of your father." She twists the doorknob in her hand. "Take a moment. An officer will be with you shortly. Try to answer his questions as best you can."

"Yeah, okay," Jim says, voice barely audible.

At the same time Liu opens the door, she also reaches for Kirk, her hand brushing his shoulder. "Jim... we'll get him back. Hang in there."

Jim's dull gaze follows her out the door. "Hang in there," he repeats hollowly once she is gone, the blinds over the door swinging in her wake.

Jonathan watches Leonard take Jim gently by the arm and move him towards a chair.

In the end, Jim's knees refuse to bend. His head comes up slightly, his hands clench and unclench, signs of him shucking off his shock. Then he wants to know, rather abruptly, "For kidnapping, we call the Feds, right?"

"Yeah," Jon confirms. "In this case, the Captain will call in the FBI."

Jim pushes past Leonard and circles Liu's desk, picking up her phone receiver from its cradle.

Leonard goes after him, clearly somewhat stupefied. "Jim, what're you doing?"

Jim dials a number with intense focus. He doesn't look up. "Calling Number One."

Jon doesn't know what that means but in that moment he wouldn't refuse any avenue of help. As certain as he felt Pike's disappearance amounted to a kidnapping after finding the car, to have the reality confirmed is no kinder than a physical blow.

Worse yet, Jonathan is helpless—out of his jurisdiction. He can't call in his boys, can't take the lead on the case, cannot even expect that Liu will tolerate his presence for much longer. Jim is Pike's family. He is not. He has no rights other than to support the family of the victim. What is he going to do?

Logically he should reveal that he is the boyfriend. But will that jeopardize the only card he has to play by admitting his personal connection to Pike? On the slim chance he convinces Liu to request his assistance in an official capacity, he could become part of the team. She likely won't give him that chance if she finds out he has been sleeping with, not to mention living with, Pike.

What would Chris do?

Jon studies Jim, who is talking a mile a minute over the phone, having connected with the mysterious Number One. From Pike's perspective, the answer would be simple: go where you can do the most good. But Jon has never found it easy determining where the most good is achieved.

When he looks at Jim, he sees a kid who needs his father. Jon can't be Pike for Jim. He can recover Pike _for_ Jim, however, and by doing so can also follow his heart, which wants nothing more than to bring Chris safely home. Maybe the choice is simple after all.

Yet, despite all, Archer's misery compounds. He acknowledges that this is why he will never be the second parent that Pike would eventually desire him to be. He is incapable of putting another's needs before his own. He is far too selfish.

Thankfully, the sound of Jim hanging up the phone brings Jon out of his head.

Leonard takes the question right out of Jon's mouth. "Who is Number One?"

Jim hangs his head a moment as if it requires all his energy just to remain upright. Slowly he explains, "Dad's old partner. They broke up when she signed on with the FBI. We still keep in touch."

"Broke up?" Jon repeats, because that is the strangest way he has ever heard someone phrase an end to a partnership between cops.

Jim is mumbling now as he lets Leonard finally tug him away from the desk and to a chair to sit down. "I liked Number One. They almost married."

"You're not making any sense," McCoy complains, brushing the hair away from Kirk's eyes with tenderness. "Was Number One his partner or his girlfriend?"

"Both."

Odd sounds greet Jon's ears: a scrape of shoe against floor, a loud bump behind him. The blinds on the door rattle.

Jon realizes belatedly, mouth dry, that he is the one who just backed up into the closed door. From the way Jim and Leonard are staring at him, they can't figure out why he did that either.

"Oh," he says, "that Number One."

Jon has no clue who Number One is, has never heard her real name (unless Number One _is_ her real one?) or the fact that she both worked with and was engaged to the man he is currently dating. A relationship, in Jim's opinion, that should have been an ace-in-the-hole.

His voice comes out strange. "When's she coming?"

"As soon as she clears it with her boss." Jim rubs a hand over his face, sitting up straighter, more coherent. However that doesn't prevent McCoy, doctor before boyfriend, from taking Kirk's pulse. "We need her. If anyone can find Dad, she can."

Jon says nothing. What is there to say? He truly is willing to accept any help. If Pike's ex-fiancée is the ticket to Pike's survival, Jon would fetch her from across the country himself if he had to.

But knowing she will be here, in a way, helps him decide another matter.

"Listen," he says, garnering Kirk and McCoy's attention once again. "I need a favor. Don't tell anyone I'm with Pike."

Leonard is taken aback. "What?"

Jim just gives him an odd look. "Why?"

"I want to do what I can to help, not get tossed out on my ass." Hopefully that answer is sufficient for them. Well, maybe not for McCoy, who doesn't look agreeable at all.

It is Jim who says, "Okay," and then adds as an afterthought, "I wouldn't have told anyone anyway. It's embarrassing."

"Jim!"

"Just saying, Bones. It's embarrassing that Dad wants to date _Archer_."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Kirk," Jon retorts, conjuring up a half-hearted smirk. He turns to face the door. "McCoy, don't let your dopey boyfriend wander around on his own. I'm going to sneak a donut and eavesdrop on the briefing."

Closing the door behind him, he is so grateful to be by himself that his gratitude causes him to shake. There would be no other reason for the shaking, no reason at all, except...

He shuts down that line of thinking.

Now where is that damn Briefing Room?

* * *

Jon has not tried kicking in the door yet. Just why is Liu so determined to keep him out here? How rude was it, when he 'accidentally' stumbled into the middle of her meeting, to have him hauled out like a transient? Since then, Jon has tried a glass against the door, tried cracking open the tiny window above the doorway (he almost broke that, and Liu almost handcuffed him to a chair in retaliation) and bribing any loitering rookie, all of whom refused to sneak inside the room and then spill their guts to him later.

He sighs. There's nothing else he can do now except pull the fire alarm.

Just then, someone comes up behind him and taps him on the shoulder. Jon reacts by nearly spilling coffee down his front and banging his head into the very door he wants desperately to open.

Liu's shout is loud enough to carry from within: " _ARCHER, GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR!_ "

Leonard, the person who just scared Jon shitless, purses his mouth. "Did you piss off Mr. Pike's boss already?"

"No," Jon says,rubbing his sore temple, and, "Yes, maybe."

McCoy crosses his arms over his chest. "I won't ask."

"Good."

"So... How are you holding up?"

Jon clears his throat and tries to look like he's in control of himself. "It's all fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. This isn't my first rodeo at the O-K Kidnap Corral."

McCoy has taken to staring at him intently. "I think you are good at deflecting."

"I'm fine," Archer mutters again, this time through gritted teeth.

"I don't buy it," Leonard insists. "If Jim were the one in Pike's situation, I would be out of my mind right now. Frankly I'm kinda out of my mind just because it's Mr. Pike, so you _can't_ be fine."

Jon would never admit to that. "I told you to watch Kirk. Why aren't you watching Kirk?" He has a sudden terrible thought. "Oh shit. Is he loose somewhere?"

Kirk's boyfriend rolls his eyes. "No, he is still contained, thank god. Some lieutenant came in and Jim seems to think he's a guy to respect so I left them to it."

It is more likely that the officer booted McCoy out since Leonard isn't kin to Pike, on paper or otherwise.

Jon shifts his stance and rolls his shoulders to relieve some of the tension cramping them up. The motions don't work. It also seems to be his luck that McCoy does not take the hint that Jon can stare longingly at the off-limits Briefing Room just fine without him.

Leonard decides to lean against the wall, his subsequent appraisal of Jon not subtle at all. Jon finds he is unnerved by McCoy's clinical air.

"How much are you still drinking?" the man asks.

The question is out of nowhere that Jon can discern, and besides it's none of McCoy's business. He tells him so.

McCoy shrugs. "I'm trying to estimate the damage."

"Damage?" Jon echoes.

"How far down the bottle this episode is going to put you."

Jon stiffens, very offended. "Episode? _Episode?_ Chris gets fucking taken _hostage_ against his will and you think it's an episode?!"

"That's right. Episode. Trigger. Catalyst. I can call it whatever I like but it amounts to the same thing." Leonard stares hard at him. "Are you in any condition to handle this, Jonathan?"

Jon plants a fist against the wall and leans toward McCoy, not only to intimidate him but to keep their conversation private. "You have some balls, kid. You're not my doctor or my psychologist. Like I said, none of your damn business."

"Very likely you have seen neither of those in the last decade—and so it is my business. Because Jim is my business, Jim's dad is my business, therefore Jim's dad's—" He stops himself from saying the actual word aloud, referring instead to, " _You_ are my business. I get that you thrive under pressure. You wouldn't be in this line of work if you didn't. However, you have also been under more than the average amount of pressure lately. Chris has been your crutch at home, but who the hell knows what you've been doing on your own time?"

Jon could punch this guy. He really could and would in fact if he wasn't standing in the middle of a police station hoping to gain the locals' respect so he can join their team. He eases back since honestly there is no other option and tries for a flippant response. "Sure. Life's been hell. Not just for me, though. You too."

"I won't disagree. Jim's attack put us through the ringer. Jim himself did."

Jon is amused to remember that despite also recalling how he didn't feel amused at all when he first found out about it. "Kirk has a way of causing trouble without trying. Must be his gift to the world."

Leonard gentles his tone. "You've been riding yourself hard to close his case. It doesn't help that Jim is convinced you have an inside informant."

He closes his eyes. "Tell me something I don't know. You don't have to go work every day wondering which of the people you're responsible for is a rat. Is it the friend you've had for decades or the ones you trained over the years to be solid, accountable deputies? Sometimes I think if it has to be true, the culprit should be the new guy. I'm less attached to the new guy, right?" His voice cracks on a laugh. "But even thinking that... can you imagine how awful I feel?"

Jon opens his eyes, realizing too late that he has blabbed his feelings out loud. He peeks from the corners of his eyes at McCoy, surprised to find Leonard's sympathetic gaze completely lacking in judgment. "Damn," he mutters, "you're good."

McCoy pushes away from the wall with a small smile. "Better than good, actually. Don't tell Jim. He hasn't figured it out yet."

"I pity him now."

Leonard starts to shake his head but stops once he is looking past Archer's shoulder. "They must be finished."

Jon turns around.

Jim comes straight to McCoy's side, a pinched look to his face that makes Jon wonder just what went on in that conversation with the officer.

Speaking of, Jim's shadow is the Lieutenant himself. He stretches his hand out as Jim hustles Leonard aside for some private conversation. "Alexander Marcus," he introduces himself.

"Jonathan Archer," Jon responds, completing the handshake. "Your name sounds familiar."

"I've been here a while," Marcus replies evenly. "Your name _is_ familiar. Famous, in fact, considering the press coverage of that terrorist attack you thwarted not too long ago. Saved a lot of lives."

Jon smiles slightly. "That wasn't me. It was Detective Pike who deserved the credit but he's not a gloryhog like I am. I couldn't convince him to do a single interview."

Marcus's gaze sharpens. "Do you know the detective well?"

That is when Jon remembers just who this man is. He says, "Well enough. We went to the state academy around the same time. Wait a minute, it's coming back to me... You're Pike's former supervisor."

The older man relaxes somewhat. "Mentor, if you will. He has been on his own for many years now."

"Of course," Jon agrees amiably. "I heard he reports directly to the Captain. Strange though," he cannot help but remark, "that a Detective can be par with a Lieutenant."

"As you said, no man deserves the glory better than our Christopher." Marcus steps back, a tacit dismissal of their conversation. "Nice to meet you, Sheriff, though I wish it could have been under better circumstances. Now if you will excuse me, I need to hand this report over to the Captain ASAP and then wrangle up the detectives I do oversee. Every available resource is working hard to bring Pike back to us in one piece."

Jon nods and watches Marcus leave before focusing on his next objective: finding out where Jim and Leonard went. He locates them after asking some passers-by for two guys who look like they belong in People Magazine's Worst Dressed On the Planet edition. One neatly uniformed officer points him in the direction of the break room.

Jim doesn't cease his pacing back and forth, nor does Leonard pause in watching his boyfriend pace, upon Jon's arrival to the otherwise empty area.

"What did I miss?" he asks, a feeling of foreboding returning to him like an old friend.

"Jim's got this crazy idea."

"It's not crazy!" Jim snaps at his boyfriend. "It makes perfect sense."

"What does?" Jon presses.

Leonard's forehead crinkles up. "Jim, tell him."

Jonathan literally has to step into Kirk's path to gain his attention. "Hey," he says, hands out in a conciliatory gesture, "talk to me, kiddo."

Jim moves into Jon's personal space. "Like you talked to me about the possibility that my dad could have been kidnapped?"

"I didn't know that for certain, Jim."

"How can I trust you?"

Jon's frustration is on the rise. "Funny how I hear that question every single day from you. Maybe you should make up your mind, Kirk. Trust me or don't. But, FYI? I'm done bending over backwards to prove myself to you."

A muscle in Jim's jaw ticks. Jon thinks it is very likely his own jaw is twitching; he's grinding his teeth very hard.

Leonard puts a hand on Jim's chest and pushes him a step back to give them breathing room. With a sigh the man explains, "Jim thinks Nero could be the kidnapper."

Jon takes a moment to think on that before offering a short nod. "All right."

Jim's gaze narrows. Even Leonard looks at Jon askance.

"Typical questions to ask family of a kidnapping victim: who has a grudge against them, and who do they have a grudge against? Considering recent events, Nero falls in both categories." He studies Jim. "Did Marcus ask you anything else? Did he say anything to upset you?"

"We skipped the stupid questions, and no he didn't upset me." Jim's tongue darts out, running along his bottom lip. "Alex told me he was the last one to see Dad yesterday. They had lunch." He glances at McCoy. "They talked about... my accident. He said Dad admitted to some hard feelings towards the guys that, you know..."

"Beat you within an inch of your life?" Leonard finishes grimly. "Yeah I know about those hard feelings. But that doesn't add up to Nero going after your father, Jim."

Jon cuts in, "Not unless you consider why the gang retaliated against Kirk in the first place."

"I don't know."

"Bones, it makes sense. If Nero wants to get to me, then he has to get to you or Dad first."

"You said that before when you thought I would be his next victim, but now it's your dad's turn? I don't know, Jim. Is this an honest-to-god threat, or is this your fear of losing those you feel closest to talking? Creating monsters where there are none, maybe."

Kirk presses his mouth into a thin line. "It's _real_."

Jon senses an old argument rearing its head between the two men, and he honestly don't have the inclination to listen to it. "Kirk," he calls as he walks toward the break room door, "I hear you about Nero. He's on my radar, I promise. But don't fight with your boyfriend. It's either united we stand or united we fall, gentlemen."

Away from the break room, he spies the door to the Briefing Room finally opening after an hour-long session and hurries in that direction to catch Liu for an update. As Jon goes, he repeats to himself silently, _It isn't Nero. God don't let it be Nero._

Because if it is Nero, Pike will never return to them alive.

* * *

Chris can tell nearly a full day has passed since his capture because his desire for sustenance has reached a gut-gnawing level. In this dark hovel, there's nothing to occupy him except his thoughts and his body. The pain in his shoulder is a tinge now but other discomforts have taken its place. More difficult to ignore is his imagination, for sitting here in the darkness is fuel to a blazing mental fire. His mind is doing all the kidnappers' hard work for them, weakening his own psyche hour by hour.

That, he tells himself, is the reason someone will come for him soon. Doubts that he might never be released have begun to seep in.

Food—or just water—would be nice too. And a bucket to piss in.

Damn but why couldn't his kidnappers have had the courtesy to leave a bucket?

Chris is entertaining himself by imagining what kind of little creature just ran across his foot when he finally hears the tell-tale sounds of life outside the darkness. A moment's desperation sends him scuttling for the wall with the door. Pride chokes back his voice.

Once he is certain the person in the distance is actually real and headed in his direction, he inches back to his spot on the far wall and takes a wide-legged stance. No need to look the part of a coward just because he currently feels like one.

The first inkling of light is welcoming. It streaks across the window of the door, followed by murmurs. A flashlight. Someone whispers in a foreign language. Another voice, louder, complains in the same language. Like Spanish but not quite. Portuguese, maybe.

He hears the sound of someone throwing a generator switch—and suddenly, the ceiling above lights up with blinding clarity. Chris curses, shielding his eyes, trying to adapt to the change in visibility to get a first, good look at his captors.

They have the heavy metal door open before he can manage to see properly. There are more than a handful, more than he could possibly overtake by himself. The men, ranging from teenagers to men older than Chris, are dressed in typical street attire: baggy pants, thin cotton shirts that don't hide their weapons or the tattoos crisscrossing their torsos. Some have on gaudy chains; others, brass knuckles worn like jewelry.

Not one of them looks sympathetic to Pike's situation. No one touches him or even speaks to him.

Except one.

The man isn't tall or swarthy but his presence is nonetheless felt the moment he steps into the crowded room. The attention of the men focus on this single person. They move aside as he approaches Pike, stride casual.

A minute of silence continues until that unreadable expression cracks.

"Welcome," the man says to Pike as if greeting a guest. To an associate on his right, he snaps his fingers. "A chair."

The fellow disappears momentarily and returns with a plain wooden chair. The one who ordered it takes a seat, leaning forward to brace his arm against one of his thighs, watching Pike as if he is a particularly interesting specimen to be studied up-close.

"Ah," he finally says just as the other men shift on their feet, "another chair."

The second chair is placed between Pike and his observer.

"Sit," Pike is ordered.

When Chris doesn't comply, he directs the next order to the men around Chris. "Help our guest find his seat." This translates into a breath-stealing punch into Pike's gut before Pike is dumped into the empty chair.

Chris manages to catch his breath without too much of a show and slowly unfurls his spine. Once again, pride prompts him to adopt a bravado he doesn't quite feel. Folding his arms across his chest, he returns the stare of this man who is undoubtedly in charge of the other thugs.

"I think you've mistaken me for someone else," he says in an off-handed way. "I'm not the kind of guy you want to kidnap."

The man, the leader, throws back his head with an abrasive laugh.

Anger overrides caution. Chris snaps, "You think committing a crime is funny?" He knows he is breaking the most important rule for a person in his position (which is _don't antagonize your captors_ ) but he suddenly is unable to care. "It isn't. You better have a fucking excellent explanation for this."

"You," the man, sobering enough to look at him again, says, "are as exactly as I have heard, Detective."

For a moment, Chris can only stare back.

"Surprised? Of course I know your identity. _Pasma_. _Policia._ Cop." His captor offers him a humorless smile. "I see the knowledge does not go both ways. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Kor."

He states his name as a matter of fact but there is an undertone of pride too.

"Kor," Chris repeats, cutting his eyes to the brutish-looking men on either side of him. It has a familiar ring but he can't recall why. Still, the smarter move is to play dumb. "You're right. I don't know you. What business do you have with me?"

Kor nods as though Chris has said something of which he approves. "Yes, we have business. Although—" Here he looks like he might laugh again, rubbing at his chin. "—I admit it was _greatly_ entertaining to watch you react so foolishly when you thought you might uncover a perpetrator." His dark eyes glint in the overhead lighting.

Kor had been watching him since the alleyway? Somehow that isn't surprising. Chris wraps himself in an angry calm, using it to clear his head and keep himself thinking. "The blue markings," he surmises, once again flicking a glance at a thug near enough to breathe on him. There is a hint of blue peeking out from beneath the thug's shirt collar. "Who do you work for, Kor?"

Without warning the other man towers over Pike, his expression thunderous with rage. "I am Kor!" he roars, fisting both hands in the front of Chris's shirt and giving Chris a none-too-gentle shake. "I work for _no one!_ "

What a strong reaction to a simple question. Chris lifts an eyebrow after he is dumped back into his chair and Kor backs away. "My mistake."

Kor visibly collects himself, then. "A mistake I will forgive only once." He makes a partial turn to pace away and back like a general thinking on his next move. "You're too clever, Detective. I should have anticipated this." He stops pacing to round on Chris once more but his tone is less agitated and again hinting at approval. "I am able to appreciate a worthy opponent. In fact, I demand it."

"You're confusing me," Chris admits. "Are you or are you not here to threaten my life?"

Kor waves a hand in dismissal of the notion. "If I wanted you dead, your corpse would be rotting on the steps of your precinct. I have greater plans for you than death, Christopher Pike."

"What plans?"

Kor looks suddenly terrifying, and his words are no less so: "Revenge. Revenge for our Brother Koloth!"

The men around Pike burst into noise, rallying from their silence to declare, "For Koloth!"

Chris pales. Koloth _is_ a name he knows all too well, that any cop in this city is trained to know, for Koloth has been the leader of the most organized crime unit in the region for nearly five years. His gang runners spread like weeds, and the battle with them is constant and never-ending. The leader himself has been untouchable, never once caught unawares in a raiding party.

A cry of revenge for Koloth could only mean one thing.

"Koloth is..."

"Dead," supplies Kor. "Killed by unworthy hands." His face twists in disgust as he names the killer. "By a dog named Ayel."

Chris unfolds his arms. Ayel is Nero's right-hand man. If Nero managed to kill Koloth... Damn, just what this city doesn't need, a violent battle between two major rival gangs.

He cuts into the snarling of what must be the remainder of Koloth's gang to say, "I don't understand, Kor. If you're at war with Nero, why am I here?"

Kor takes a seat again, looking very pleased that Pike had asked for an explanation. "You are my peace offering, Detective. Nero wants you badly. I will give you to him." He bares his teeth in a pretense of a grin. "Then I will slit his throat and take his territory for my own!"

More howls and cheers and stomping of feet.

Chris is numb to their enthusiasm for bloodshed.

 _Nero,_ he thinks. He is finally going to meet Nero in person.

Watching him, Kor remarks with a shrewdness Chris has seen all too often in men of Koloth's caliber, "The look on your face, Detective... I know it well. You seek revenge of your own."

Chris presses his mouth shut, unwilling to agree but not able to deny the truth either.

Kor smiles faintly. "Make a deal with me," he offers, extending one hand, "and we shall experience glorious victory together!"

Liu's words echo in Pike's head: _Law and order is our business, no exceptions._

He swallows hard and asks, "What sort of deal?"

Kor leans in, eager to share the rest to him.

* * *

 **Sidenote** : **Kor was supposed to be a new character in the Riverside 'verse, the leader of the Road Warriors (a motorcycle gang that has a bit of rivalry with Kirk), but sadly I never got around to writing that story. It seemed like a good idea to give him a spotlight here instead.**


	4. Part Four

**Part Four**

Officers move about the precinct with purpose, their assignments in hand. Liu takes Archer aside (not into the coveted meeting room, sadly) and gives him the layman's version of the briefing, to which halfway through said summarization Jonathan is struck by a horrible thought. He cries a name.

Liu halts mid-explanation. "What did you say?"

"My poor Porthos!" he exclaims again, aghast, and fumbles for his cell phone. "Left alone with nothing to eat or drink—"

"What?" the woman questions more sharply.

Jon punches in a number Chris had ordered him to memorize by heart. "—and nowhere to poop! Hello?" he says anxiously to the person answering the call. "Ms. Riley? Ms. Riley, it's Jonathan Archer from next door. I said _Archer_ , Christopher Pike's—" He catches a major slip of information, correcting in haste, " _Sheriff_ Archer."

Liu looks disbelieving that he interrupted her generous offer to debrief him to call a neighbor about a pet.

With Jonathan sufficiently identified to Ms. Riley's liking, Ms. Riley is quite occupied with the fact that Pike skipped the last homeowner's association meeting and _furthermore, Sheriff_ , to the detriment of the neighborhood, he once again refused to run for Association President. _Everybody loves Chris_ , she insists in her quavering elderly voice. He is so organized, friendly, and fair-minded. He would absolutely make a wonderful President!

Archer makes a rash promise to convince Pike of this fact, which effectively gives him the opportunity to tell the lady why he called her in the first place. She says she is happy to tend to Porthos in his absence, agreeing that it is quite atrocious to force Jimmy's adorable little beagle pup to endure a day of solitude.

Keenly aware of Liu's impatience to return to the topic at hand, Jon doesn't have the time to correct Ms. Riley that Porthos is not _Jim's_ , hurrying the conversation along. "The spare house key's in a little frog by the gnome in the flowerbed," he whispers, hand curved around his mouth and the phone. "Porthos gets one bowl of kibble and _two_ bacon treats if he does a number two in the yard."

Liu firms up her mouth and taps a foot on the floor.

When Jon hangs up, he loudly declares Pike's neighbor to be a life-saver. He will never throw out her brick-like fruit cakes again or decline an invitation to one of her infamously boring tea parties.

Liu says, "Archer, enough. Do you want to know the next steps or not?"

Jonathan counters, "You clearly don't have pets."

"Your _pet_ problem would be taken care of if you sent Kirk home. I thought I was clear in my orders."

Jon fights back a grimace. "Jim doesn't listen well to orders. I would know."

All at once, the captain's shoulders come down a fraction. "As would I. Kirk's son is... unique," she says, which in Archer's opinion is about the kindest description for Kirk's recalcitrance he has ever heard. "I have no clue how Pike handles him. My husband and I thought our eldest's rebellious streak was a headache. Then Chris shared stories of what his son considers acts of rebellion."

Jon grins. "Makes your kids look like saints, doesn't it?"

"Comparatively," she murmurs.

Jon follows her gaze across the bullpen to where Jim is sitting beside Phil, elbows braced against the desk, deep in conversation.

The captain's voice turns somber. "Kirk has a good heart. Undoubtedly mischievous but exceptionally smart, loyal, and kind where it counts. I know Chris takes no credit for that, but I've seen what becomes of children who have no one to nurture those qualities. They are lost in every way." She sighs softly, crossing her arms over her chest. "If we fail to recover Pike, I believe Jim would survive it—because that is the strength a parent gives to a child by loving them. However that doesn't mean we should accept failure." She faces him again. "Which is why I am willing to bring you into this case, officially speaking, Sheriff."

"You are?" he asks dumbly.

"I'm not certain I like you. You're egotistical and, frankly, so annoying that I want to kick your ass back across the county line. But you do have one redeeming quality."

That brings a smile to his face. He teases, "Only one?"

"Actually it's half of one," the woman deadpans. "I was rounding up out of pity."

Archer clasps his hand together. "Now I have to know what it is, Captain!"

Her mouth curves. "You care about Jim."

Jon had a dozen different witty quips ready for rebuttal—and subsequently forgets every single one. "What!" He blusters, "You're crazy!"

Across the room, Kirk's head comes up like a dog catching a scent.

Archer lowers his voice. "Never in a million years," he whispers furiously at Liu. "James T. Kirk is the bane of my existence!"

Liu steps up to the challenge, quite literally, enunciating so that only a fool would dare misunderstand her. "Then send him home."

Jim pops up behind Archer's shoulder. "Hey, is something going on?"

Jon curses at Liu in his head. "Nope," he lies, turning to the exact reason Liu has managed to outwit him in a verbal sparring match. "Nada. We were just discussing lunch plans. I vote hotdogs."

Jim stares at Jon for a moment then wants to know, "What happened in the briefing?"

Liu smiles as she takes a step back. "The sheriff will explain everything, Mr. Kirk. He was listening _so attentively_ , I know he didn't miss a detail."

Jon laughs nervously as Liu returns to her office, and McCoy appears opposite of Kirk. "Well," he begins, breaking into a cold sweat under their combined stare, "who would have thought a kidnapping investigation could be so boring."

Jim's gaze narrows, but before Jonathan can be called on the carpet for knowing approximately _nothing_ about what angle Liu has the officers working on at the moment, Leonard jerks back without warning and removes a vibrating phone from his pants pocket.

"Crap," the man says as he stares at its brightly lit screen. "I forgot."

Kirk's attention shifts to his boyfriend and the buzzing cell phone. "Who is Pain in My Ass?"

Leonard flushes. "Spock."

That answer doesn't appear to perturb Jim at all. "What did you forget?"

This time McCoy looks pained. He mumbles something. Jon leans in to hear better.

Jim's eyes widen, for clearly he had heard McCoy. He perks up with interest. "Party? What party? Whose?"

Admittedly, Jon perks up too.

"Yours," Leonard replies, clearly not thrilled about it. "A Welcome Home party."

Hours of tension and worry melt from Jim's face, replaced by a child-like delight. "Really, Bones? You planned a party... with Spock?"

"Well it wasn't my idea." Leonard's tone sours. "I wasn't _planning_ to share you with anybody, but then Spock said I can't keep you to myself, and suddenly people were coming in and out of my apartment, making it look like a damn cucaracha band had taken up residence there." He scowls at the now-silent phone. "Stupid Spock. It's his revenge for me punching him in the nose."

Jim hooks an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders and draws him in, touching the edge of their temples together. "You're amazing, Bones."

"Yeah, well," McCoy mutters, seeming embarrassed, "it was gonna be a surprise... except now isn't the time for surprises." He gently pushes Jim away. "I need to call Spock back, tell him the party is cancelled. He will let the others know."

Unhappiness returns to Jim's face. "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you guys."

Leonard reaches out, chucks Kirk under the chin. "Don't apologize, kid. It's not your fault." He nods to Archer. "This will only take a minute."

Watching Jim watch McCoy amble away, Jon wonders what comforting thing Pike would say. With reluctance he dismisses the urge to try himself. Jim doesn't likely need or want comfort from him. No matter what Liu wants to insinuate, Jonathan is no replacement for Pike.

Lucky for Archer, Phil saves him from his awkward feelings by inviting Jim to the break room for a fresh cup of coffee. Jon waits until the pair is out of sight before he purposely wanders after McCoy.

Leonard has a consternated look; his eyebrows are drawn close together, his mouth pursed. Obviously the conversation is not going as expected. Jon shamelessly eavesdrops.

"...Wait a second, I'm _not_ asking you to come here. Why are you so—" McCoy pauses. "No, I didn't mean—Spock? Damn it. Spock! Hello?" He pulls the phone away from his ear.

Jon hears a dial tone. "That sounds like it went well."

"That son of a bitch... It's like he ignores everything I say on purpose!" Leonard shoves the phone back into his pocket. "Just because Jim's having a _crisis_ doesn't mean he has to drop everything and run over here."

Jon feels a tickle of amusement. "You mean like you did?"

Leonard rounds on him, temper lighting his eyes. "I'm Jim's boyfriend! Spock isn't!"

Jon is about to make some comment about a green-eyed monster, which is kind of literal in McCoy's case at the moment, when Jim calls out from the edge of the bullpen, "Bones!" and holds up a cup of coffee for his boyfriend to see.

The sight of Jim douses Leonard's temper like water on a campfire.

Jon watches McCoy stifle a sigh. "If Spock shows up, is that going to be a problem?" He is only asking because he is curious.

"Not for Jim," comes the muttered response.

 _This is new,_ the sheriff muses.

...Or is it? Chris would know.

Leonard weaves through the grid of desks to reach that coffee Jim has thoughtfully brought back from the break room for him.

Then he shakes off his curiosity. There's more than enough family drama happening already. Whatever bug has bitten McCoy has far less priority than Pike. Only once Chris is returned safe and sound can any of them begin to worry about the more mundane troubles in life like jealousy.

* * *

The second time around, without distracting thoughts or overly curious youngsters, Archer is able to give Liu his undivided attention. She seems to have forgiven him for his earlier lapse; that, and the fact that most of her staff have been sent out to scour the city for signs of Pike leaves the precinct eerily empty. Whatever the reason, the information she provides is more detailed.

They are in the middle of a discussion concerning the lack of fingerprints or fibers of any kind on the ransom note when Lt. Marcus gives Liu's office door a perfunctory rap.

"Alex, this is Sheriff Jonathan Archer," Liu introduces Jon. "Archer will be joining our auxiliary team."

 _Auxiliary?_ thinks Jon. _Not primary?_

"We've met," Marcus replies, but he offers Archer a nod of courtesy. "You asked to see me, Captain?"

"You know Pike better than any of us," Liu says. "You also know the case he was working on. Try to retrace his footsteps. I also want witness accounts to corroborate his activity yesterday."

Jon sees an opportunity to provide advice. "Security is cheaper than it used to be. You would be surprised at the number of shops that go in for a basic camera system these days. Grab a copy of the footage while you're out there, even if it's just Pike chatting up some old lady who loves dress hats. If we're lucky, someone has a camera on the street. It could help pinpoint when his cruiser changed hands."

Marcus just nods. He looks to Liu.

"One more thing before you go, Lieutenant," the woman says. "The order to partner up stands. I won't risk another officer on his own."

Marcus's eyelids drop to half-mast but the man makes no comment. Liu dismisses Marcus, and he leaves without further ado.

Jon wants to know, "Is he used to being un-partnered?"

Liu picks up a pen, turning it in a circle through her fingers. "Yes. That was part of the deal we had to make to... keep things fair between Marcus and Pike."

"I thought Pike was a specialist. He said he occasionally partners with one of the greens to get them used to field work but he mainly works solo. Forgive my ignorance, but why would there be any comparison between a Lieutenant and specialist?"

"Because Pike's rank is technically the equivalent to a Lieutenant."

Jon sucks in a breath, releases it in a quiet whoosh. Chris had failed to mention _that._ "Well, I can see how that would cause some tension."

Liu nods almost absently.

Studying her guarded expression, Jonathan guesses, "You have other concerns about Marcus."

"I do," she replies, not denying it, "but none that I can share with a consultant. Shall we pick up where we left off?"

Jon concedes the change of subject. It really isn't his place to scrutinize Marcus's job performance, and he can respect a boss who honors her employees' privacy.

"We were talking about the note," he says, and their conversation moves on to more urgent business.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Jon finds Jim going all Rocky on a soda machine while his boyfriend looks on.

"Is there a reason you're damaging property you don't own?" he questions casually as he stops in the corridor intersection where Kirk and McCoy are.

"Jim needs to punch something," Leonard explains. "I'm keeping watch. He agreed to stop when I said stop."

Kirk ignores them both and paces a tight little circle that brings him back to face the machine. The merchandise inside audibly rattles after Kirk's next right hook.

"This is healthy," Jon notes sarcastically.

McCoy just looks at him. Jim punches the machine again. It spits out a Pepsi.

"Ooh, prize!" declares Archer, snatching it up. "Never mind. I'm in total agreement. Super idea!"

Leonard warns his boyfriend, "One more punch and then you have to stop."

Kirk's eyes blaze. Jon backs up as far as he can just in case the kid decides a flying leap-kick is only proper for his last assault. He wonders if the machine will empty out all its contents under such pressure. That would be amazing.

Jim begins to lift his arm for the attack—only to snort instead and, shockingly, drop his fist back to his side. He turns away, signaling that the show is over. Leonard comes forward and picks up one of Kirk's hands. Jim stands there patiently while the man prods at his bruised knuckles.

"Nothing broken," decides McCoy.

"I pulled my punches," Jim mutters.

Jonathan stares at the dented machine. "Shit, if that was you pulling your punches, then you're in the wrong career."

Jim blinks at him. "I don't have a career."

"You will now, kiddo. Pike ever take you to a boxing ring?"

Leonard drops Jim's hand, looking annoyed. "Jim isn't fighting professionally."

Jim adopts a curious expression. "Why not?"

"Because I'll dump you!"

Jim tells Jon, "Sorry, professional boxing is a no-go."

"All my joy in life," Jon gripes, "gone." Then he looks between Kirk and McCoy. "So, when's the richer half of the cavalry arriving?"

Leonard colors in a way that Jon takes to mean he forgot to tell Jim about Spock's impending arrival. With agonizing slowness, Jim's boyfriend relays the news.

Jim stops rubbing at his knuckles, looking surprised. "Are you serious, Bones?"

"As a heart attack, Jim."

A strange expression comes over Kirk's face, then, part apprehension, part wonder. "Spock really is my friend."

"He really is," Leonard agrees, deflating slightly. "Why would you think he's not?"

Kirk shrugs. "I piss him off a lot."

"You piss me off even more, and I'm dating you."

Jim grins sheepishly, running a hand over his hair. "Good point, Bones." He reaches out and snags McCoy's arm. "Let's go up to the front and wait for him."

In Jon's opinion, McCoy looks like he would rather do anything but that. Archer clears his throat. "Maybe you could spare your paramour for a second? I would like to talk to him."

Jim eyes Jon. "About what?"

Jon makes a comically pained face. "I need a medical opinion. You see, there's this oozing boil on my—"

Jim has dropped Leonard's hand and is halfway down the hall before the sentence is finished, fingers plugging up in his ears as he scurries away.

Jon high-fives himself.

Now it is Leonard's turn to eye Jon warily, looking like he has discovered a fate worse than greeting Spock. "Sheriff, boils sound like a topic to discuss with your general practitioner."

"Apparently I don't have one of those." At the combination of regret and resignation on McCoy's face, Jon bursts out laughing. "Don't worry, don't worry," he reassures the doctor as he chokes down his laughter, "I'm not signing up with you just yet."

Leonard grimaces. "But your condition—"

He waves a hand. "Boils can wait for another day. I'm saving you from rolling out the red carpet for Spock."

"Oh," McCoy says with more understanding. "Thanks. I guess."

Jon sidles closer to the man. "Now, about this party you mentioned. Why didn't Pike know?" Because if Pike had known, then Jon would have known and so clearly Pike did not know.

McCoy offers a half-shrug but his response is carefully worded. "It would have been useful information to impart to Mr. Pike at the appropriate time."

Now Jonathan is dying to know more. "What does that mean?"

Leonard glances at him. "It means Chris might have needed a final push to let Jim go without regrets."

"If Chris knew that Jim's friends were ready and waiting to celebrate his return..." Jon whistles, impressed. "The choice would have been made without Chris agonizing over it, since there's no way he can deny Jim any chance at happiness. Sneaky, McCoy, very sneaky," Jon decides. "I like it."

"I think it would have worked."

Jon pats the young man's shoulder. "You would make a great son-in-law."

Leonard slides far away from him, now embarrassed. "I should catch up to Jim."

Jon lets him go.

* * *

The grand affair of Spock's arrival is made grander by the woman who precedes him into the precinct, a shopping bag swinging from her hand. Jon gets a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach the moment she flips her long ponytail and pinpoints him skulking in the background with uncanny accuracy. In the next moment she altogether ignores his presence and latches onto the surprised man in front of her.

"You didn't call me," the woman accuses Jim.

Jim doesn't have a chance to reply because her hug likely takes the breath right out of him. When Jim does manage to speak, the squeak sounds suspiciously like _can't breathe!_

Nyota Uhura releases Kirk and unceremoniously pushes him toward the brooding shadow behind her. Then she turns her attention to McCoy.

Leonard takes the proffered shopping bag.

"You look like shit," Uhura states.

Leonard does look like shit, in Jon's opinion—especially now that Kirk is fully immersed in a hug with Spock and might be snuffling into the notably silent man's shoulder.

Leonard's hand dives into the bag and comes back with crisp-looking white fabric. "What's this?"

Nyota sighs. "Nothing in your closet looked suitable so Spock and I bought you better clothes. Since I know for a fact that Jim has even less fashion sense than you, there's something for him to wear too."

Jim lets go of Spock and turns around. "You bought me clothes?"

Spock's gaze touches upon Kirk's faded pajamas before moving on to McCoy's rumpled, stained, psycho-surgeon appearance. "Clearly," the somber man intones, "we made the correct choice."

"There's nothing wrong with my clothes!" McCoy snaps.

The snap startles Kirk, whose expression turns uncertain.

Nyota intervenes. "Leonard, there's a reason I'm not touching you. You need a makeover—and a bath, pronto." She snaps her fingers and points in Jon's direction. "You there, Pointy Hat!"

Jon pats his head to make sure he isn't wearing an honest-to-God pointy hat.

"Where's the men's locker room?" she demands.

Oh yes. Jon remembers Nyota Uhura very well. He had hoped never to see her again, if only because her presence gives him chills.

Jon steps forward, about to clear his throat, when he notices Kirk looking entirely too amused. He puffs up. Kirk is wrong. Jon has no plans whatsoever to embarrass himself by cowing to the scary female. "Miss Uhura," he greets her as cordially as possible, "how nice to see you again—and outside a jail cell too."

Why is McCoy smacking his forehead?

Uhura smiles. It's not a comforting smile. "And I see you're no less of a dick, Sheriff."

"He's forever a dick," Jim states, crossing his arms over his chest. "But to be fair, I think that's why my dad likes him."

The casual observation floors Jon mainly because it comes from Kirk. As often as Jim proposes to have no clue why Pike is dating a backwoods goober like Jonathan, clearly Jim has given some thought to the matter. But why?

Spock shifts to flank Kirk. "Jim, regarding your father..."

Jim visibly deflates. "I don't have answers yet, Spock."

"I understand." Spock pauses in a true show of regret. "My main concern is you."

Suddenly McCoy is pushing between the two men; he grabs Kirk's arm and steers his boyfriend away from their little group. "You know what," the man calls over his shoulder, "Nyota's idea has merit. Jim and I are gonna shower and change."

A determined McCoy and baffled Kirk disappear through a swinging door.

Spock folds his hands behind his back. "Interesting."

That's what Jon is thinking.

"Boys," Nyota remarks, shaking her head. Then she rounds on Jon and stabs a finger just under his collarbone. "You. Tell us _everything_."

* * *

Jonathan is exhausted. He feels like a ping-pong ball moving from one battle of wits to the next, coming up the loser every time. Liu wants him over here but not over there until suddenly it is the opposite. Jim ignores him for the most part, then randomly demands his immediate attention. The creepy sensation of being stared at like a zoo animal is courtesy of Spock, who has not approached him alone but seems to be planning some kind of bloody coup. By the time Liu snags the collar of his jacket, no doubt intending to give him an earful about the Kirk and Gang commandeering her bullpen as if it's their own personal blanket-fort, Archer has had more than enough of everything.

He yanks her hand off of him, emphasizing, "It's not my fault."

"I'm not running a daycare, Archer."

"I said it's not my fault!" he snaps back.

Liu opens her mouth, then closes it. Though she obviously isn't happy, her tone regains some professionalism. "Sheriff, you said it yourself—time is a critical factor in a kidnapping. Kirk and his friends are a distraction."

He lifts his hands, palms out. "What do you want me to do, Captain?"

She stays quiet momentarily before shaking her head at something. "Just... keep them quiet. Occupied."

He lets his frustration show. "You asked me to consult, but now I'm a glorified babysitter? Hell no. I want schematics of this building. I want access to your database. I want _every_ damned report that has crossed your hands this morning."

"Ditto," comes a hard voice at Archer's back.

Jon closes his eyes and counts to three. He turns around. "No."

Kirk steps forward, fists clenched, intentions clear.

A "Jim" from Spock has the unusual effect of making Kirk pull back.

"Jim," Liu reasons, seeming unsurprised by Kirk's anger, "you're asking the impossible. You are a civilian. Archer, at least, has the distinction of a career in law enforcement. He has the clearance." Her gaze cuts to Jon. _Maybe_ , it says.

Damn, but asking Liu to trust him is harder than Archer anticipated. He vows to win her over somehow. First, however, he needs to do something about that determined look in Pike's son's eyes.

"We're not proposing to leave you out of the investigation, but there is a line concerning your involvement which you need to respect." When a muscle ticks in Jim's jaw, Jon adds quickly, "Do you think your father would tell you any different?"

Surprise flashes across Kirk's face. Jim admits, as though it pains him to do so, "He would say the same thing."

"Then—"

"But whether coming from him or you or the president of the country, I don't care," Jim insists. "I have to do _something_."

Pike would say Jim sounds just like a younger version of Jon. Jon wouldn't deny it. He had hated waiting on the sidelines while the others were in the thick of some crisis; he still does, to some degree. It had been hard-earned, the wisdom of knowing when his greatest contribution would be to let someone else take on the responsibility of saving the day.

"I get it, kiddo, believe me. Even by keeping your head down for a while, I promise that's doing something. It may make you feel like shit, but it means we don't have to worry about your safety on top of worrying about your dad." He moves forward to clasp Jim's shoulder. "If there's a task you can help with, we'll let you know. But for now..." He draws a quick breath. "I think it's time you went home."

Jim opens his mouth to protest.

Jon says plaintively, "Please, Jim."

Kirk presses his mouth flat. Leonard touches the man's arm.

Spock shares an opinion. "Jim, perhaps leaving the precinct will provide us the opportunity to ruminate on how to assist in your father's recovery."

Jim's head snaps around to Spock. He stares at the dark-haired man intently for some seconds before murmuring the word, "Opportunity..."

Leonard passes a hand over his eyes. "I agree with Spock," he says, like that is something to regret.

Oddly enough, Jim's shoulders relax. "Okay," he tells Archer and Liu. "You win. I'm going home."

Why does Jon have the funny feeling Kirk is handing him this victory for a reason other than his apparent cooperation?

Liu signals someone. Carlos and another younger officer trot into view. "Please escort Mr. Kirk and his companions." She informs Jim, "We have already set up surveillance at your house."

Jon clarifies, "She means don't plan to walk around in your underwear for a while. There will be officers inside as well as outside, and people to monitor your phone." He glances at Liu. She nods tacit permission to continue. "Which is nothing compared to how the FBI will set up when they arrive."

"Big Brother is watching you," says McCoy in all his sarcastic glory.

"Always," Jon confirms.

Jim's response is more flippant. "Cool, whatever." He addresses his friends. "Let's go."

Jon hurries after their troupe, catching Jim before Kirk reaches the double-set doors leading to the hallway. Paranoid still, he reminds the man in his most no-nonsense-allowed voice, "Once you're home, stay there. I will join you later. ...And, Kirk? I don't want to see you outside that house. Are we clear?"

"Crystal, Sheriff," Jim retorts, twisting his arm out of Jon's grasp. "I promise you won't see me." He pushes through the doors, Spock on his heels.

McCoy lingers a moment. "Sorry," he tells Jon before following in his boyfriend's wake.

Finally, Jon is without Jim. Somehow that makes him worry more.

* * *

Archer exits the break room with his fourth, fifth or possibly twentieth cup of coffee of the day. He is immediately bombarded by a group of aggravated people led by their captain Gretchen Liu.

Liu demands, "Why is _she_ still here, Archer?"

Jon almost drops his coffee. He sprints for the bullpen.

In Pike's chair with ankles crossed on the edge of Pike's desk sits Uhura. She drags a nail file across one of her fingertips, saying upon his arrival, "There you are."

This must be what a heart-attack feels like. "You didn't leave with Kirk!"

How did he have miss that small yet utterly crucial detail?

"Why thank you, Captain Obvious," Nyota retorts.

Jon's hands are trembling. He clutches his coffee cup more tightly. "Uhura... explain."

She continues to shape her nails.

One of Liu's officers hurries across the bullpen, disheveled and slightly out of breath. "Captain Liu!"

Jon realizes only then that Liu and her entourage are standing behind him.

"Report, Moreau," Liu orders.

"The tail lost them, Captain."

Liu's expression turns grim.

"Lost...?" Jon echoes. He explodes in a panic after that sinks in, "You lost Kirk?!" Somebody call an ambulance because he really _is_ having a heart-attack. This can't be happening.

"This is why you shouldn't rely on amateurs," Uhura remarks slyly. "Spock has rich-boy hobbies. Racing cars is one of them. Those three are long gone by now."

Jon discards his coffee on a nearby desk and drags both hands through his hair. The reality hits him hard. He lost Pike, and now he has lost Pike's son. _Shit_. Why didn't he drive Kirk to the house himself? "Where did they go?"

"Where did Mr. Pike go?" Nyota counters.

In other words, that is precisely where Jim plans to be. Kirk will pursue any lead if it takes him to his father.

Jon is such a fool. He should have known standard protocol wouldn't satisfy Jim; that, like Jon himself, Jim would not be content to wait for others to take on this mission. He should have handcuffed Kirk to his side if only to keep him from pulling a stunt exactly like this.

By the look on Liu's face, she is experiencing the same regrets. But her tone is no less a leader's when she tells Uhura, "I cannot sanction interference with my operation, however pure the intentions."

Uhura returns the stare fearlessly. "It's our operation now, Captain."

Liu considers the young woman briefly before focusing on Jon, perhaps recognizing that Nyota Uhura has a backbone made of the same unbendable steel that she does. Liu warns him, "If we catch Kirk, we _will_ contain him by any means necessary."

Jon bristles at that. "He's a kid, not a threat."

She gives him a strange look. "Then he's your kid now, Archer—and your responsibility."

"What?" he says, shocked. "Me?"

"Just as Pike would want it," the woman finishes before pivoting on her heel and striding away.

Jon gapes at her back.

Does she _know?_

Tapping her nail file against Pike's desk to gain his attention, Nyota says too sweetly, "Welcome to Team Kirk, Sheriff Archer." Her sweetness dies. "Rule Number One: if you let Jim get arrested, I'll tear your balls off. McCoy will punch you. Spock will ruin you financially. Sulu's forms of revenge are rather mysterious but generally effective, and while our dear little Pavel Chekov may look angelic, he is viciously protective in a way that will give you nightmares."

Jon flaps his arms like a helpless little bird. "You forgot Scott."

She goes back to filing her nails. "No I didn't. There's simply no way to explain what Monty will do without making you paranoid for life."

"Oh." Is he actually feeling grateful to be spared that? What is wrong with him?

 _I am a county sheriff,_ he reminds himself and girds his loins, so to speak.

Uhura's cell phone beeps, and she snaps upright from her languid position, swiping a finger across its screen. "Ooh," the young woman murmurs after a moment, "Pavel and Hikaru have arrived."

Jon looks around, unnerved. How many heart attacks can a person have in one day? "Where?"

Her look reads, _You're so dumb for a cop._ "The Sheriff's Department."

Jon thinks he whimpers. He does sway on his feet. Truly, what is happening? Maybe he has lost his mind. "Why—" he falters. "Why are they there?"

Uhura stands up and brushes past him, whispering conspiratorially, "To catch a mole."

Jon stands still for a long time, thinking about that. Then he runs a hand over his hair one last time.

"These punks," he mutters. "They're going to be the death of me." Or, at the very least, the death of his career.

He shouldn't feel proud but he does. He didn't lie to Liu. Kirk has been the bane of his existence for many years. Now Jon has a chance to see that mad genius at work up-close.

Any sane person would run screaming for the hills. Jon is simultaneously scared and thrilled.

Since the feeling is nonsensical, he dismisses it and moves with determination towards the meeting room where Liu had taken up residence once again. Whether Pike's boss likes him or not, it has suddenly become imperative that he joins the primary team.

* * *

The way Pike sees it, he has two options: join Kor and betray his own principles, or join Kor and betray Kor. It doesn't seem like much of a choice. As an officer of the law, Christopher Pike holds his principles in very high regard. But as a father... As a father, would he regret not taking revenge on Nero when the opportunity presented itself? Absolutely.

The internal battle is nasty but brief with the only way to end it being to think of Jim. He remembers when his newly adopted son had inquired, "Why a cop?", and how he answered. Jim had been indignant to hear, "So I'm not tempted to break the law like a certain someone caught peeping in people's windows. Peeping, Jimmy, really?"

Had Jim taken that as a promise from Pike to act as the moral compass when Jim couldn't determine what was right versus wrong? Chris has always liked to think so.

"You have had enough time," Kor announces. "Your decision, Detective."

Pike leans back in his chair. "First, tell me how you plan to take out Nero."

Kor's face hardens. "Do you think I am a fool?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, Chris replies, "Then I don't have anything to say."

"There are other ways to persuade you."

Kor speaks in another language, then, which seems to translate to _help our guest remember his manners_. Chris doesn't have time to jerk his head back before the first set of knuckles crashes into the side of his face.

But Kor doesn't seem to be interested in bloodshed in that moment, for after a few brutal punches and kicks, Kor stops his men. Pike drags himself back to his overturned chair. Refusing to break so easily, he rights it and takes a seat again.

Kor simply shakes his head. "You may be more than I bargained for, Christopher Pike."

Chris spits blood out of his mouth. "Oh, and who did you bargain with? The devil?"

All of a sudden, Kor looks entirely too amused. "The devil has a name. One you might know."

Chris pauses in the act of wiping his mouth to consider the man. What new game is this?

Kor locks his hands behind his back and lifts his head slightly. He does a slow circuit through the circle of his men, finally coming back to stand before Pike. "I think, perhaps," he says, "I have some information which will interest you."

Chris plays dumb. "I'm only interested in Nero."

Kor leans forward. "Liar."

"I could say the same of you."

Kor pulls back with a suppressed chuckle. "I am not an illogical man, Detective Pike. Like you, I only accept fact when evidence is presented." He heads for the door with the ominous pronouncement, "Therefore you will have your evidence soon enough, and you will know what I say is true."

Half of the men in the room follow Kor out. The other half remain. With Kor gone, one of them spits by Chris's foot.

Chris raises an eyebrow at him.

The men don't approach him, don't talk to him, not without orders. Kor's hold over them is strong, indeed. Chris doesn't know if that will turn in his favor or not. Nonetheless, he is content to sit, mouth and ribs aching, for the time being unmolested.

Because of the earlier wait in the darkness, he has become a poor judge of time. He thinks an hour—maybe two—passes before someone returns to the room. It isn't Kor, but the one of the dark-skinned men who flanked him. He says something in that fast, rolling language Chris cannot understand. Another man joins him at the door. They disappear for a time. One comes back with a plastic cup in hand.

Pike stares greedily at the water, but when it is handed to him he doesn't drink. The man, rolling his eyes in disgust, jerks the cup out of Pike's hand and dumps the water on the floor.

Chris closes his eyes in resignation.

The next time the errand boy—for that is what the fellow seems to be—returns, he has a sealed bottle of water, which he pitches at Pike's head. Chris catches it easily enough and studies it. Would he be able to tell if a syringe of drugs had penetrated the cap? Probably not. But since the man made the effort to give Pike something he could trust, the odds were more favorable that the water isn't contaminated.

He decides to drink it. The coolness of the water is like a balm, all too quickly gone. So occupied is Pike in shaking the last drops out of the bottle, the door opens and closes without him paying much attention to it.

A sharp intake of breath resounds along with a name. Chris's name.

Chris glances up—and the empty water bottle slips from his fingers. He jumps up on instinct. Rough hands shove him back into place.

The man in the doorway steps forward, palms turned outward. He says something in that foreign language, not smoothly but accurate enough to be understood. Then he says, "Chris, sit down."

Too stunned to think, Chris does what he is told.

The man moves fully into the room, the overhead lights banishing any doubt that he is none other than the person the familiar shape proposes him to be: Alexander Marcus.

"Alex," Chris says, feeling like something has just broken inside him, something that when broken brings a physical nausea and a keen heartsickness along with it. "I... don't understand. What's going on?"

Kor's men had backed off when Marcus had spoken. Now Marcus tells them in English, "Give us a minute."

The nausea intensifies at the reaction of Kor's men. No threats, no hesitation. Silently they file out of the room.

Chris gasps for air. Why is his vision swimming? He launches out of the chair, intent on finding somewhere private to throw up. Marcus catches his arm and restrains him before Chris can even think to recoil.

"Don't," the man begins. "Don't look at me like that."

It takes serious effort to free his arm and fight the nausea at the same time. A part of Chris acknowledges that his reactions are simply born of shock. He isn't hallucinating from drinking the water as he wants to believe because this cramped feeling in his chest, this sickness and pain... They are all too real.

Marcus takes a step back. "Don't look so betrayed." His tone is inexplicably cold. "I did this for you."

"For... me?" A disbelieving laugh erupts from Pike. "Me?" he repeats. "You're involved in my—" He can barely say the word. "—kidnapping to help me? Tell me, Alex—tell me how I'm supposed to believe that." That his request has a desperate quality to it shames him.

"Chris..."

Chris begs, "Tell me what's going on. Tell me this isn't what it looks like."

"Christopher."

"Tell me!" he screams suddenly.

Marcus's countenance tightens. "It's what it looks like," he says.

The admission knocks Chris sideways. He is _dizzy_. As he staggers back, his fingers close helplessly on the air, seeking anything for support. Marcus is smart enough not to touch him. Eventually he locates the chair and sits down in one clumsy effort, mind still reeling.

After a stretch of deafening silence, Chris runs a hand over his face. "We used to... used to joke that Koloth had ears everywhere. That was why we couldn't catch him." The magnitude of what Chris is saying hits him like another punch, causing his eyes to water. "It wasn't a joke."

A muscle slides in Marcus's jaw as the man looks away. "It's more complicated than that."

Chris grips one knee, daring to look up. "Then explain it to me. Explain why you— _you_ of all people—are a—" He can't say it.

"A dirty cop," Marcus supplies, his smile tiny and mirthless. "I made a choice, Chris. Honor or justice."

The last word shivers down Pike's spine. "Justice?" he repeats slowly, after a moment experiencing the sudden clarity that comes with fitting a puzzle piece into place. There is only one reason—or person—more important to Alex than anyone else. "Carol," he guesses. "You did this for Carol, didn't you?"

The hardening of the man's gaze is answer enough.

"What did Koloth—" Marcus nods in confirmation of Pike's next guess. "—promise you?"

"A promise is worth shit. Koloth gave me what I needed." Darkness passes over Marcus's face. "He gave me the bastard who hit my little girl."

Chris swallows hard. Just by looking into the other man's eyes he can guess what that really means. Chris had been deeply worried about Alex when Alex had rejoined the force, but he hadn't questioned why Alex's obsession over his daughter's accident had suddenly died out. Chris had simply been grateful to have his longtime friend and mentor returned, as all their colleagues had.

Now he knows he was willingly blind to the truth. Alex hadn't healed. He had been sated. The perp is dead. Alex, by Chris's measure, was the one to kill him.

Knowing full well what Pike must be thinking, Marcus only folds his arms across his chest. He doesn't seem to care how he is judged.

Chris doesn't want to judge him. He lowers his head.

"In return," Marcus continues as though there had been no lapse in their conversation, "I owed Koloth."

"You helped him rise to power." Chris stares at his hands. "It's been five years. Hasn't the debt been paid?"

He hears more than sees Marcus cross over to him. Then in front of him, Marcus kneels, giving Chris no choice but to meet his gaze.

"The debt has been paid a hundred fold. I don't do this because I want to, Christopher. I don't have a choice. Once in the game..."

"There's no getting out," Chris finishes quietly, heartbroken. "I don't believe that, Alex. You _can_ stop."

Marcus nods. "I want to. I plan to. That's why you are here."

Chris doesn't understand.

"Help me," his friend asks of him. "Help me end this. Kor and Nero, we can take them out if we work together. Two birds with one stone, Chris. A clean slate for me—and justice for you."

"I won't deny that I want justice," Chris replies, "but I don't know that I want it this way."

"As long as the perp who hurt your kid rots in hell, what does it matter?" Marcus doesn't give Chris time to answer. He squeezes Pike's kneecap, the gesture of comfort so familiar that Pike's eyes sting again.

"Trust me," Marcus continues on, calm and collected in the same way he normally is while directing an operation. "You don't have to forgive, only trust."

Chris is saved from answering by the scrape of the metal door being pushed open.

Marcus quickly comes to his feet, folding his arms over his chest and once again adopting a mask of indifference Chris has never seen on him before. He turns partly away, saying as if only curious, "Where have you been?"

Kor, flanked by the usual two, strolls into Chris's prison. "Ah, Lt. Marcus. I am always reminded of my Brother Koloth's wisdom when I see you." Kor's gaze flicks to Pike's face. What Kor sees there, Chris can't begin to guess. "I trust your little reunion was productive."

"He's in," Marcus says, startling Pike and causing Kor to laugh.

"So the Detective finds my truth of great interest after all! Very, very good." Kor signals to his men as if that is all he needed to hear. One of them tosses a set of fresh clothes at Pike's feet. "Word has reached Nero of our detective's kidnapping. Since he knows _he_ isn't the responsible party, he will make discrete inquires to find out who has the prize. We must prepare."

Marcus looks nonplussed. "There's no 'we', Kor. You wanted bait so I gave it to you. My part is done."

Something malicious swims through Kor's gaze at the dismissal, setting Chris on edge. But he isn't able to warn Alex to be careful.

Then again, watching Marcus, Chris realizes his mentor must know Kor very well—just as he would have come to know Koloth, former leader of this gang. Alex has been part of their organization for five years.

Chris clamps down on his reaction to that thought and focuses on studying the pair of adversaries before him. An hour ago he would have trusted Marcus in any fight, would have believed the man was doing all that could be done to aid in Chris's rescue. How quickly illusions can be shattered. In reality, Kor set Marcus the task of finding a way to Nero, and Marcus knew he had the perfect solution.

Chris pieces the rest of it together now with almost clinical detachment.

His new case had belonged to Marcus. The ruse to catch Pike was contrived by someone who knew of Pike's obsession to catch Nero. Marcus confirmed it when they met for lunch, and then he sent Pike on his way, knowing where and when Chris would go that day. A perfect setup—and a great risk too, since there was always the possibility that Chris could have immediately told Kor to go to hell.

 _Trust_ him?

Chris picks up the clothes from the floor and stands up, gaining the attention of everyone in the room.

He will never trust Alex again.

"Since I'm in," he says, "I should contribute to the plan."

"Oh?" Kor questions, his anger turned aside briefly by curiosity. "And what will you contribute besides the obvious?"

Chris smiles grimly. "A diversion, one that Lt. Marcus _can_ take part in."

Marcus presses his mouth into a thin line.

Kor says, "I like the sound of that. Tell me more."

Pike moves forward, pausing long enough to clasp Marcus's forearm in a reassuring manner as he replies, "Gladly."


	5. Part Five

**Part Five**

"We've got a problem," Jon says as he peers between the blinds covering the office window.

Liu joins him there. Seeing what Archer sees, her expression turns furious.

Jon releases the blinds, covering up the sight of several news vans unpacking their equipment in a nearby parking lot. "I take it you weren't the one to tip them off."

"You think I want this leaking so soon?" the woman snaps. She picks up the phone from her desk and punches in a number, saying, "I'll handle it."

Jon pities her. One can't _handle_ the vultures who call themselves reporters. By dinner time, every person in the city will know about Pike's kidnapping. The attention could be useful if they receive tips that help in breaking open the case but as Pike is also a cop, it will become a heyday for conspiracy theorists and glory seekers. Jon doesn't envy the staff, who will spend most of their time during the next few days manning the phones, wading through false leads, and blocking the press.

Worst-case scenario, the media attention pisses off the kidnappers.

No, he thinks, that's not the worst-case scenario. The FBI are. No one is worse than a royally pissed government agent. Shit.

He leans back against the wall by the window, the stress headache that has been threatening to develop since morning finally taking over.

Liu pauses in yelling at someone over the phone (a news station director, Jon guesses) to ask, "Are you all right?"

"Could be better," he replies.

She says tersely into the phone, "We will speak about this later, Mr. Garamond," and hangs up before turning to Jonathan. "Archer, sit down before you fall down."

"No thanks. This wall and I get along fine."

"If you faint, you're off the case."

Grudgingly he abandons the wall and takes a seat, deadpanning, "So glad you're concerned."

"Did you eat the lunch Doreen brought in?" She waves away his answer prematurely. "Never mind. Of course you didn't."

"I had lunch," he counters, indignant.

"Red Bull doesn't count."

Damn it. Someone had tattled. In his own office no one gave him shit about his habits. Of course that could be because over the years he had chased off the ones that did.

Liu's assistant frames the doorway of the office. "Captain, the Chief Commissioner is on the line."

Jon wisely keeps his mouth shut.

"Stall him as long as you can," Liu tells Doreen.

Poor Doreen. Jon likes her. She's so... motherly, and of course terrified for Chris. Jon spent a good twenty minutes trying to stop her crying into a handkerchief and blaming herself for making the assumption that everything was normal after Pike's last check-in. Then she asked him about Jim—and Jon nearly cried.

Having Doreen pat _his_ back comfortingly is the reason he has decided to woo the woman away from Liu someday soon and install her in his department. He will gladly listen to stories of her grandkids.

"Have you heard a word of what I just said?"

Jon blinks. "Huh?"

Liu holds up her forefinger and thumb. "Sheriff, I'm this close to sending you home."

He takes great offense to that. "Captain, I've been in this game a long time. I can handle it."

"Is that so?" Liu sits down and crosses her legs at the knees. "And when was the last time you had your lover kidnapped?"

Jon is thankful to be sitting down; for a second his vision fades out. The silence encompassing the office is tense.

"I thought you might know," he mutters at last. "How long?"

"Chris told me a few weeks ago."

Jon stares at her dumbly. Chris... _Chris told her?_

Liu crosses her arms over her chest. "Normally I don't give a rat's ass who's dating whom but I had a hunch after those hours I spent talking to you about Kirk's case." She tilts her head. "So I followed up on it."

In other words, _he_ had been the one to give their relationship away, and Chris being an honest guy hadn't disguised the truth. Had Liu's hunch been born of a woman's intuition, or was it simply a product of the fact that Jonathan had been so angry at the time that someone would hurt Pike's kid he wasn't able to hide his personal attachment?

Well, it can't matter now.

He grips the arms of his chair. "Why did you bring me into this, Liu?"

"Why not? You are _the_ Jonathan Archer, after all."

Jon isn't amused. "That's bullshit and you know it—like that bullshit about me controlling Kirk. Obviously I fail at that, so what's your real reason?"

"I said you care about Jim, not that I expected you to control him." Liu leans forward slightly. "We could argue about this all day, Sheriff. There's only thing I want you to do: find Pike. If you accomplish that, I will consider my choice—and my discretion—a win. I _don't_ ," she emphasizes, "want to come out of this regretting either. Understood?"

Women are confusing as hell. It's like they speak another language and expect Jon to translate. But he heard something that matters to him, and that is the implied permission to do what he has to do to bring Chris home. He doesn't plan to disappoint either Liu or himself on that front.

"Does your partner-up rule apply to consultants?"

"It does," she replies.

"Then find me a partner. I'm useless cooped up like this."

"Done." When Jonathan reaches the door to her office, she wants to know, "Do you have somewhere particular in mind that you're going?"

"Same place Chris did."

She doesn't say anything for a moment, then, "I sent Marcus to cover that," as if Jon needs the reminder—or the warning.

Jon snorts. "Lt. Marcus isn't me," he replies, and leaves.

* * *

Partnering up does not mean, in Jon's opinion, to assign him to a younger version of Gretchen Liu. Unfortunately that is exactly who Officer Marlena Moreau's personality appears to be patterned after. The moment Jon has a slightly chauvinistic lapse in attitude, she not only shuts him down but shoves it back in his face too. By the time they are in a cruiser on the road, his headache has doubled from trying to figure out how breathing wrong might set her off again.

Eventually Moreau rolls her eyes. "I don't bite," she claims.

Jon keeps his gaze fixed on the view beyond the windshield. The downtown area of the city is cleaner than he remembers it, many of its old buildings restored. There are several new businesses that have cropped up sometime in the last decade and others he thinks he should recognize but doesn't. His recent trips here have mainly been limited to picking up Pike's take-out orders. Maybe he should have asked Chris to show him the town. Did Chris have the impression he wouldn't consider living here?

His regrets seem to be piling up lately.

Because he is clueless concerning their surroundings and wanting to think of something other than his misery, he asks, "Where are we headed again?"

"Palmetto Row," Moreau replies, switching the channel on her radio to receive a report from another officer more clearly. "String of robberies last month. Lt. Marcus was on the case." She glances sideways at Jon as if to judge his reaction. "That is, he was until Detective Pike came back."

Moreau makes that sound like a problem. Jon settles on a noncommittal noise. "Some rivalry exists between those two, I guess?"

Moreau returns her attention to the intersection ahead. "Rivalry isn't the right term. Pike's nothing but respectful to the Lieutenant. I don't think he _wants_ to take the work away from Alex. It just happens."

"Because Pike is better at his job?"

"No!"

The vehemence of Marlena's reaction surprises Jon.

It must surprise her too for she switches to a more objective tone of voice. "Pike is brilliant, everybody knows that, but there's nothing wrong with Alex either. He trained Pike. He has decades of field experience and leadership. There's no comparison."

It sounds like Marcus might be grooming a new generation, or at least stacking the deck in his favor with the loyalty of the less experienced. Jon begins to wonder just how deeply this rift among colleagues has affected Chris. And why hasn't Chris thought to mention it to him? Is there a breakdown in communication, an unwillingness to communicate, or simply that Chris doesn't deem Jon worthy enough to know about his troubles?

Maybe, he reasons, swallowing hard, Chris considers him a passing amusement. He did make a fool of himself trying to squirm his way into Pike's life.

Whatever their relationship really is, Jon won't go back to pining. He'll just... tell Chris up front that he loves him and wants to consider permanency.

Oh crap, who is Jon kidding? He can go in guns blazing into an officer's worst nightmare but is an utter coward at falling in love.

 _Archer, you sad sack of a human being_ , he thinks.

"Sheriff?"

Jonathan realizes he once again has unwittingly tuned someone out. It's beginning to worry him that he can't focus on the job, especially _this_ job.

"Sorry," he apologizes to Moreau. "What did you say?"

"Do you think we'll catch Kirk?"

"What?" he says more sharply.

Moreau drums her fingers against the steering wheel. "If we spot Kirk, we're to report in. That's what Cpt. Liu ordered."

Jon bites back a curse. "We won't see him," he remarks, echoing Jim's promise to him just before that grand escape.

For some reason Marlena doesn't appreciate his answer. "Kirk has gone too far this time, interfering in a police investigation."

Jon stares at the side of her head. "You thought he _wouldn't?_ Haven't you people been locking him up since he was thirteen?"

"That's... different," Marlena replies. "It's serious now. Not a kid's game. Besides," she tacks on, looking nonplussed at Archer, "I can't speak to the past. I've only known Jim for four years." She flushes, says, looking away again, "I used to think he was sweet. Kind of... a bad boy but sweet underneath. I never once thought he was _crazy_. Now I don't know."

Does no one at the precinct truly comprehend Jim's level of commitment to Pike? Jon finds that strange, but then again maybe they have only seen it the other way around, how Pike bends over backwards to take care of an errant son.

Jon still can't help but argue in Jim's defense however. "If somebody took your father, you might go crazy too."

The woman's expression tightens. "I don't have a father."

Jon winces internally, deciding he would do better to stay quiet from now on. His foot loves his mouth too much.

Moreau seems to shake off the awkwardness, though, and returns to a brisker tone and the task before them. "I think we can narrow the time-frame between when Pike was likely taken and his car was moved outside city limits. Something that throw me off about the GPS history report that came back was the brevity of stops. Except for the garage where the car was stripped down, it kept moving."

Jon applauds the fact she picked up on that. "It's a lot more difficult to kidnap a moving target, which means the attack was probably beforehand. Hence why we're heading to this Palmetto Row."

"Do you think Pike was overpowered?"

"I think however he was taken the plan was coordinated and efficient. No room for error. Since the main element of risk would be a trained cop, the kidnapper had to know exactly where and how he could overtake his victim. He probably had tabs on Pike throughout the day. We'll pinpoint the location and look for evidence, something to give us a connection to the kidnappers or, if we're lucky, a direction in which to search."

The woman's hands tighten on the steering wheel. "I'll assist in any way I can, Sheriff. Fucking with one of our own means fucking with all of us. We'll catch these bastards."

Jon would love to apprehend the perp responsible and make him regret being born but he tells his temporary partner, "First priority is always the victim, Moreau. Recover the victim, then catch the bad guys."

Marlena turns her to look at him. "If the victim's still alive."

Jon curbs his initial reaction, for that statement makes him panic inside. He hopes he sounds collected when he says, "We can't afford to assume otherwise."

Moreau blanches. "Sorry, I... I didn't mean anything. I don't want Pike to be..." The officer closes her mouth against the rest of that sentence.

Jonathan stares out the windshield without seeing anything. "It's okay to think like a cop, kid. It's who we are."

Moreau doesn't attempt to resume their conversation, and Jonathan has no inclination to.

He rests his eyes until Marlena says, "We're here."

The cruiser pulls into a public parking lot, and Moreau turns off the engine. Jon unbuckles his seat belt and climbs out, waiting tensely for his partner to join him.

While she reports their position, Jon surreptitiously checks a piece of paper he had shoved into a pocket. "We start at the pawn shop," he tells her a moment later.

"Follow me, Sheriff." Marlena leads the way across the parking lot and through a narrow alley.

Jonathan eyes a cat perched on a fire escape above their heads surveying the trespassers through his territory. To Jon's right, a rotten door is partially caved in; further along, on either side of the alleyway, are the bolted back doors of the shops facing Palmetto Row.

Jon pauses at the mouth to the alley to survey the street. Moreau moves ahead to the pawn shop, calling in bemusement, "Aren't we going in?"

"Yeah," Jon murmurs, "we are." He doesn't dare glance back again as he pushes through the shop door because that might tip off Moreau to the idling vehicle across the road.

It's Spock's SUV.

* * *

The owner of the pawn shop is not pleased. "Too many cops lately," he complains as Jon and Marlena hold up their badges. "What do you want?"

Jon starts off with "So just how many cops have you talked today?"

The man frowns and looks around behind them. "Just one."

"Marcus," Marlena says.

"Mm," responds Jon, moving on. "Actually, sir, we're here about a buddy of ours we think might have passed through here _yesterday_. Nice guy for a cop, very polite, _very_ handsome."

Moreau is looking at him strangely.

The owner is not. "Oh, that Pike fellow? Detective Pike?"

"That's the one."

"I liked him."

 _Me too,_ Jon doesn't say. "We're just following up." He grins and leans in to whisper as if giving away a secret, "Performance reviews, you see." He points to Moreau. "My partner has a few questions for you." He waits a beat. "Mind if I look around the back, double check to see if he asked all the right questions?"

The owner blinks, shrugs, and mutters something that Marlena leans in to hear.

Whistling as he goes, Jon strides down the main aisle, noting the one or two other patrons in the shop. A hooded figure standing in front of a display of gaming consoles up ahead of him grows very still. Jon brushes past the guy nonchalantly, saying, "Whoops, excuse me." At the last second he snatches the back of the man's hoodie, towing his quarry quickly through the back area of the shop.

Finding a door to a bathroom, Jon pitches them both inside and slams the door shut, locking it.

Jim rips back his hood to reveal his most defiant expression yet.

Jon wrenches the man forward and closes his arms around him. "I'm going to kill you, Kirk," he growls, and nope that's a quaver in his voice at all.

"You might kill me if you don't let me breathe."

Jon shoves the kid back and sticks his traitorous hands into his armpits. Dumb things, they screwed him up. Hugging Jim was not his initial plan!

Jim appears a little confused as well. "You aren't angry?"

"I am," Jon says with sincerity. "I'm livid."

Jim eyes him. "You look like you're going to cry."

Archer mutters, "Got something in my eye," and switches the conversation to a more important topic. "How did you know to come here?"

Jim's gaze slides sideways.

Jon stifles a sigh. "The case file... Did you copy it or memorize it?"

"Bones wouldn't let me make copies. He said that's stealing confidential information."

Thank god somebody of the duo has common sense. "How far down this street have you been?" _Who could have seen you?_ he wants to ask, anxious, but doesn't.

Jim rubs his nose. "This is the last one. Worked backwards."

Interesting. Jon is doing the opposite. Which order did Pike choose?

"Find anything?" he questions in a milder tone, like they're discussing the weather.

Jim takes his opponent's measure.

"Share," Jon prompts more seriously, "or discover what happens when I start screaming, 'I found Kirk!'"

Jim looks a touch fearful. "Marlena's out there."

"Yeah, and from what I can tell I think the highlight of her day would be to chase you down and put you in cuffs."

"It really would." Jim shifts on his feet. "We, uh, went on a few dates."

Jon is interested despite himself. "Did she break up with you, or the other way around?"

Jim's look is answer enough. "She wasn't the one, you know? Plus I was finishing up college, didn't have time to visit much. I thought we could do casual, no strings attached. She disagreed."

Jon sympathizes.

Jim's look turns serious. "Dad doesn't know. I don't want it to be awkward for him because of a mistake I made."

Archer mimes zipping his mouth shut.

Jim ducks his head a little, stares at something in the corner of the bathroom. Then he rouses himself and remarks tentatively, "I might have something. I was going to check it out but then you showed up."

Jon will gladly accept this olive branch. "Where? In the shop?"

Jim shakes his head. "The guy who works behind the counter—not the manager—he said he remembered Dad. He said he was putting out new product in the front window when Dad left and saw Dad get into his car. But then—"

Jon tenses.

"—Dad got _out_ the car again and took off past the pawn shop in a hurry."

"And after?" Jon asks softly.

Jim shakes his head. "He didn't see anything after that. Joe had to leave the window after a while to run the register."

Jon rocks back on his heels slightly, thinking. "Did this Joe give you an estimate of how long he was at the front of the store?"

Jim says regretfully, "I didn't think to ask that."

Jon claps him on the shoulder. "No worries, kiddo, you did good." Then he smiles—and drops his hand to fish something out of Kirk's jacket pocket before Jim can react.

Holding up a badge with Officer Carlos's name on it, he tsks. "You want a real badge? Go to the real Academy. In the meantime, I'm just gonna keep this safe for you." Jon tucks the badge away into his own pocket.

Jim crosses his arms over his chest.

"Don't pout," Jon says. "Here's our plan."

Jim demands, "Why do _you_ get to make the plan?"

"Because I'm older and wiser and hold the key to your freedom right now."

Jim frowns. "I'll just run away again."

Jon's grin has sharp edges. "Is that what you did? Anyway, I said 'our'. Pay attention. I can take care of Marlena, so once we're gone, slip out to the alley next to here. I will circle back around and meet you there." He pauses before stressing, " _Wait for me_ , Jim. You got that?"

Jim considers it for a little too long before nodding.

Jon knows he won't receive more reassurance from Jim other than that so he simply leaves, shutting the bathroom door firmly behind him. Striding back into the main area of the pawn shop, he leans against the counter with what he likes to think of as roguish charm.

Marlena frowns at him. "What's the matter? Do you need to use the bathroom?"

Jon uncrosses his legs at the ankles and straightens up. "No," he answers a tad sourly.

"Oh. Find anything?"

Maybe he would have if he hadn't been busy hugging his mortal enemy. "Camera's broken on the far aisle." Thank goodness for the pilfered case notes. Unlike Kirk, he had photocopied what he needed. "Are there any other cameras, maybe outside?"

"No," the owner says.

Jon steps up to his partner. "I think we have all that we need. Thank you for your time."

Moreau closes her notepad and follows him outside.

At the door to the next shop of their list, he says too brightly, "Oh, look, we can do two at once!" making use of the fact that the third victim from Pike's case is another shop two doors down. "You take this one, and I'll just—"

"The Captain said don't split up."

"You don't do _everything_ Liu says," he reasons.

Moreau's expression implies that, yes, actually she does.

Archer rubs his forehead. He hates what he is about to do, but he can already see Jim peeking around the pawn shop door from the corner of his eye. "Listen, Moreau, I'll be honest..." What he means is that he is about to lie to the utmost of his ability. "I don't know that we have time to spare arguing about this. There's reason to believe we're on a clock."

Moreau pales. "By a clock, you mean...?"

"Pike's life is on the line," he tells her, "and every minute that passes brings us closer to a deadline we don't want to miss. I can tell you don't feel... kindly towards Pike..."

"I never said that!" she exclaims, looking distressed. "It's Jim I'm mad at!" The woman, catching her slip, quickly regains control. "You're wrong. I want Chris back alive too. What can I do to help?"

"Get us through this questioning as quickly as possible."

The woman lifts her chin slightly. "I will, Sheriff."

They part ways.

Jonathan practically runs around the Row and back up the other side. He finds Jim skulking in a shadow between the fire escape and an abandoned stack of cardboard boxes.

Jim says as soon as a winded Jonathan arrives, "I asked the guy how long. He said ten minutes, fifteen at most. When he left the shop at six o'clock, the cop car was gone."

Jon thinks about that.

Watching Jon, Jim wants to know, "What does it mean?"

"A cop takes off on foot without calling in his position for one of two reasons: the danger to a civilian is imminent and requires immediate action, or he is shocked into forgetting protocol."

"Or he doesn't give a shit about protocol," Jim points out.

"Not if we're talking about Pike." Jon rubs thoughtfully at his chin. "How many stores are past this alley?"

"Four."

"What's around the corner of the intersection?"

Jim frowns. "A department store."

"And what's behind us?"

"The highway."

Jon slaps his hands together. "Then we're in luck."

Kirk shifts on his feet, obviously wanting to know what that means but not wanting to ask.

"This narrows down the scenarios considerably. Think of it like this: a uniformed officer always draws attention wherever he goes. If you're planning to kidnap him, how do you avoid winding up on the national media?"

"Get him alone," Jim answers immediately.

"Exactly, my little grasshopper. Under perfect conditions, you would have a private location with limited escape routes and quick access to transportation. Preferably sound-proofed but that's pushing things."

Jim has stopped breathing. "Like... this place, you mean."

"Right again. However," Jon reaches for Jim preemptively to detain him, "what's likely isn't necessarily what is true. We need to verify a few things first."

Jim's eyes are darting around the alleyway.

"Kirk, you with me?" he calls.

"Yeah," Jim says slowly. "Verify what?"

"Foremost, that no one else saw Pike on the other side of this alley. Then we determine who owns what. Public property isn't a problem, but we can't trespass on private property to investigate without probable cause."

Jim stares at him. "What if you're in pursuit of a criminal?"

Jon doesn't even have to think about that. "No."

"But..."

" _No_ , because then I'd have to tell someone who that criminal is and why I'm chasing him. Do you really want to end up in jail?"

"I don't care."

"Sure you do if it limits your ability to find your father."

Kirk closes his mouth.

Jon moves closer to him. "This is no time to lose your head, Kirk. Agree to do it my way, and I swear I will keep us both in the game." He waits more nervously than he anticipated for Jim's answer.

Jim slides his hand to Jonathan's wrist but rather than breaking their connection, his fingers tighten there. "We do it your way but use _my_ resources."

Damn. Checkmate. "Deal," Jonathan agrees, resigned to the fact that it probably won't be long before he regrets this decision.

Jim breaks Jon's hold on him, then, shoving his hands into his hoodie's pockets and turning away. "I want to search _here_."

Well, at least that is a request and not a demand. Jon will take what he can get, especially since he understands that Jim isn't exactly thrilled about following someone else's orders.

"We'll get there. For now, I would appreciate it you could circle the block, look for other exits, back-streets, private drives. Anywhere to park a van to load a body."

Silence reigns briefly before Jim asks, his question eerily flat, "Do you think he's dead, Sheriff?"

The question is a painful one, something Jon has purposefully avoided thinking about too deeply since he found Pike's cruiser stripped bare in the woods.

"No," he says, working to keep his voice even, "I don't. I think he's making his own plan to get free. You know how Chris hates being the damsel-in-distress."

A soft sound comes from Jim, not quite a choked sob but not a sound of relief either.

Jon is compelled forward, ready to lower a hand to the young man's shoulder and say something funny but comforting like _nobody can defeat a Super Dad like Pike_ when he is jerked away by his jacket from behind. An arm winds around his neck and presses there, blocking his ability to breathe fully.

Adrenaline bursts through Jon's veins at the same time his ingrained training kicks in. But his elbow finds air instead of an exposed stomach; his foot stomps the ground instead of an instep; and the arm around tightens painfully to immobilize his head.

Archer makes a half-yell, half-gurgle as black spots begin to dance at the edge of his vision. Kirk spins around at the sounds of the scuffle—and freezes.

Jon flings his hand back and wrenches at his assailant's hair like he's in a schoolyard fight. In response, Jon is lifted off his feet. "No!" Jim cries at the same time. For a second Archer has the weird sensation of being airborne; then the world turns end over end and Jon finds himself flat on his face on the pavement.

The hand now planted at the back of his neck is quite unnecessary. Jonathan isn't going anywhere. He thinks he is dying, or at least has broken a lot of very important pieces to his skeletal structure.

Voices come from above him, exclaiming with a sense of urgency. A weight lifts off Archer's back, and he can suddenly breathe again. He turns his head to the side. A face appears, McCoy's.

"Are you okay?" McCoy asks.

Jon can't help that his laugh is tinged with hysteria. He slurs, "D'you catch the n'mber of tha'bus?"

"We call that bus Spock," Leonard replies grimly. His voice grows grimmer as he helps Jon roll over. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Jon blinks up at the sky. He sees no fingers. Is that bad?

Jim bends over him.

"I see a Kirk," he murmurs.

Now Jim looks concerned. Weird.

After McCoy is done patting Archer down and declaring him to be mostly unharmed, both Kirk and McCoy help him to his feet. Jonathan meets the gaze of his attacker. Spock stares back without any hint of repentance for having thrown an old man over his shoulder.

Jon rubs his throat, feeling the phantom press of an arm there. "I think Mr. Spock needs a leash."

The man in question looks to Jim. "Are you unharmed?"

Jim presses his mouth into a thin line. "I'm fine but... Spock, is there a reason you assaulted my father's boyfriend?"

Leonard turns his head sharply in Kirk's direction but doesn't say anything. Jon blinks in stupefaction.

Spock's menacing presence subsides just a bit under Kirk's gaze. "Jim, by all appearances Sheriff Archer was attempting to restrain you. I thought—" He stops speaking momentarily, then says with more caution, "I see now I was incorrect in my assumption." To Jonathan, slowly, "I apologize."

"Huh." Jon clears his throat, then, remembering to say, "Forgiven." Jesus on a cracker, what kind of friends does Kirk have that when they think he is being arrested, they would recklessly attack the law?

As though fighting to speak the words, Leonard interjects, "It was an honest mistake. We freaked out when we saw Archer and that police woman, and then when..." He trails off, shaking his head. "I'm on Spock's side. Better to protect you first, ask questions later. Although," here he eyes the tall, dark-haired man, "Spock could have been a little less violent in his approach."

"My actions were hardly violent," Spock says, clearly affronted. "I was aiming to incapacitate the sheriff, not permanently disable him."

"It feels like the latter," Jon disagrees.

Jim sighs, tucks his chin down and closes his eyes. When he opens his eyes again, the air about Kirk is resigned. He turns to Archer. "I take responsibility."

Jon drops his hand from where he had been massaging the juncture between his shoulder and neck. "For what?" he asks, surprised.

"Any harm done." Jim's eyes hold his. "When you tell my father, let him know it's my fault."

"Jim," Spock and McCoy protest at the same time.

"It's true," Jim states. "Spock, you don't trust Archer because of me. I know that. I should have made it clear to you—all of you—that my personal feelings about him are irrelevant. He matters to Dad; therefore we can't treat him like an enemy even if we don't treat him like a friend. I will be the one to decide if Archer steps out of bounds, and I will be the one to handle him."

"Now hold on, Kirk," Jonathan says, because there is no way this conversation is happening _around_ him. "You made some assumptions on your own I can't agree with. First of all, I'm not telling your father about this. No way, no how. As of this moment, your pseudo-boyfriend over there didn't just dump me on my head, capisce? Second, you can't take responsibility for someone else's actions unless they actually report up to you, and third—" He can hardly believe he is about to say this. "—Spock and McCoy can rescue you any time they like. What, oh, looks like Big Bad Archer is about to eat little Red Riding Hood Kirk? Fine, knock me on my ass. I am _okay_ with that." He swallows a sigh. "I can't promise to always be the good guy, Jim, not even under extenuating circumstances like where we find ourselves now. And as much as it pains me to say this, you _are_ a good guy. So let your friends save you if they think they have to."

Jim just stares at him.

Feeling like he has sufficiently embarrassed himself, Jonathan tugs down his jacket. "Let's get this show on the road, kiddos. Moreau is going to nail my ass to a parking sign if I don't show up where I'm supposed to be." He heads for the mouth of the alley, pausing by Jim's friend's shoulder to say, "Word to the wise, Mr. Spock. Don't park on the street when the cops are looking for you."

Tipping an imaginary hat to the little posse behind him, Jon leaves, knowing Kirk will update Spock and McCoy on what to do next.

* * *

Moreau exits the shop Archer should have been investigating with the expression of someone who has realized she has been deceived.

Jon lifts his hands, palms outward, as he approaches her. "I had something to check on," he begins.

She shoves a notepad into his chest. "Is _this_ what you were looking for?"

Jon peels the pad off his chest and skims her neat handwriting. "A camera?" he notes, glancing up sharply.

"Positioned on the entrance but with a partial view of the street." Marlena opens her hand to reveal a USB stick. "I copied yesterday's footage."

"Marlena, you're amazing!" he cries. But he sees he won't be so easily forgiven.

The woman takes a long step back. "You lied to me, Sheriff. Why?"

If Jon doesn't answer correctly, Moreau will tell her captain she lost track of him regardless of their little pact. Liu will either string him up by the heels or cut him out of the investigation. He knows which he would prefer.

Marlena firms her mouth at his silence and pushes past him.

Jon pivots to catch her arm. "I saw Kirk."

Moreau freezes momentarily before very slowly turning to face him again. "Jim?" she says.

"I thought I did," he explains. "Corner of my eye kind of thing. It was some punk in a hoodie. I caught up to him in the alley."

"But it wasn't Kirk?"

Jon winces and makes a show of touching the scraped skin along his jaw, courtesy of his meeting the pavement earlier. "One mistake led to another and I got thrown on my ass. So if you think I wasn't going to tell you what I was doing, you're right. I am beyond embarrassed right now."

Her expression loses some of its sharpness as she studies his appearance. "Are you all right? Should I call in?"

"Don't, please. I know I'm not young anymore, Moreau, just like I know it's foolish to hang on to pride, but I would rather not have to do a walk of shame back to your station. Can you understand?"

Eventually the woman sighs. "Sheriff, everyone gets thrown on their ass at some point. The training I went through at the Academy made for some of the worst experiences of my life. There are men who still think a woman shouldn't be on the force, and they would humiliate me whenever possible. If you think being older sets you up for ridicule, try being female."

He releases her. "You remember their names?"

"What?"

"The son-of-bitches who got their panties up in a twist because their real balls don't measure up to your metaphorical ones," Jon explains. "I may have one foot in the grave, but I still have some clout. Give me their names. I'll take care of the rest."

For some reason she laughs. "I didn't think you were funny until now."

He smiles, uncertain. "Was I joking?"

"No," Marlena decides, "I don't think you were." Taking her notebook back, she flips it open to a list, scratching off two names. "We have one place left."

He glances behind her to the stores on the other side of the alley, and he remembers his promise to Kirk. Granted, if Jon didn't come through, Jim would still find a way to wheedle information out of people without a badge that doesn't belong to him, but Jon doesn't want him in the position of breaking any more laws.

He comes to a decision. "Are you open to an idea?" he asks his partner.

She looks up from her notepad. "Sure. Tell me."

"That hunch we were talking about earlier, that Pike never made it off this street. This cam you found might give us the answer for certain but processing the evidence to review the footage will take time. What if we corroborate eyewitness accounts instead? We know he came this far by nature of his case. How about finding out just how far he went?"

"That sounds smart to me."

Jon hopes Jim, Leonard, and Spock are well-hidden in the alley as he turns Moreau in that direction. "Glad you think so, doll."

"Call me doll again and I'll punch you."

Jon winces and laughs a little. "Sorry, bad habits."

Moreau snorts. They start along the sidewalk, catching the eyes of a few passers-by. When they cross the mouth of the alley without the world imploding, Jonathan breathes a sigh of relief.

Then he rubs at the back of his neck, oddly feeling as if he is being watched. It must be Kirk, he supposes, ready and waiting for some signal of when to join the game.

If Jon is honest with himself, a large part of him wants to send Kirk and his friends on harmless assignments, keep them ensconced on the sidelines at a safe distance. But Jon thinks of Jim's flat inquiry if he thought Pike was dead and acknowledges that, if the worst happens, the only way to salvage Kirk will be the reminder that Jim did everything possible to rescue his father. He simply can't set the boy up to fail or to die.

Pike will have to forgive Jon for this decision, somehow.

A buzzing in Jon's pocket draws his attention to his cell phone. When he activates the screen, he sees he has a text message waiting to be read.

The message says: _Use this number. Spock's private line._

Tears spring to Archer's eyes. Jim Kirk has finally decided to trust him.

* * *

Kor is as sensible as he claims to be, which is not praise Chris usually gives to someone so cold-blooded. But he can see, as he outlines what he insists is their best shot at throwing the city police off their trail, that Kor is not simply a whimsical opportunity seeker. He understands the value of planning for every eventuality.

Marcus watches Chris closely as the conversation progresses, giving Chris the sense that Alex is trying to figure out his angle. Chris can only hope Marcus never does, for that will surely destroy the last illusion of trust between them.

And Pike needs Marcus whether he wants to admit it or not. Marcus is the key to exposing this whole charade.

"I like this plan," Kor states, following a thoughtful consideration. He cranes his head in Marcus's direction. "Objections, Lieutenant?"

Marcus's gaze remains fixed on Chris.

The faint smile gracing Chris's face never changes. Marcus always did claim that Chris had the best poker face among his pupils, something Chris now feels certain Alex regrets about him very much.

"How about it, Alex?" he prompts. "Any objections?"

"Explain one thing," Marcus says. "Why me?"

Chris raises his eyebrows. "Betrayal succeeds best in the hands of the unexpected. Didn't you just teach me that?"

Kor roars, his unrestrained laughter causing even the most stoic of the thugs to chuckle.

Marcus's jaw shifts like he might be grinding his teeth, but he agrees, "I'll do it."

"Impressive," Kor congratulates Pike. "Most impressive, Detective." He looks turns sly as he observes their other companion. "Perhaps the lesson of betrayal has been taught too well."

Marcus states, "Chris won't betray me," his voice implying, _he wouldn't dare._

Chris suppresses his anger. "Exactly. Why would I bother? As Alex has said, some things demand more than honor can provide."

Kor sobers all of a sudden. "And what do you require that honor would deny you?"

"Revenge," Chris replies, his tone hardening. "The only part where my colleague and I differ is the word." They know he is speaking to Alex, though his words are directed at Kor. "I want revenge, not something so useless as justice. To be more specific... my gun against Nero's head."

"That's murder," Marcus interjects. His scrutiny of Pike intensifies. "Are you saying you will kill the man yourself?"

Pike steps forward. "That's exactly what I'm saying. For touching my son, Nero _dies_."

Kor murmurs in approval, "Now I see why Lt. Marcus chose you."

"So do I." Chris locks his gaze onto Marcus's. "I'll consider this opportunity the payment for betraying me." He allows for a brief pause, then continues, "Time to tell the absolute truth, Alex. Will you help me do this or not?"

Alex nods once. "Yes, I will."

"Good." Pike relaxes his body, tucking his hands into his pants pockets like there's nothing more to worry about. "As a show of trust, I'll tell you where I keep my spare gun. Once you have it, you know what to do. Rumors can be leaked to the press, which should keep the Captain busy trying to explain to the Feds why the evidence points to me staging my own kidnapping. That should be when we hear from Nero, who I don't doubt will want to make some truth of those headlines."

"I will gladly explain it to him." Kor's eyes darken with a kind of triumphant glee. "I shall say I caught you in the act of infiltrating his organization. As he already knows I have spies there, he will believe me. Yes, this plan should work very nicely to our advantage."

"The only catch being," Marcus remarks coolly, "that Chris will effectively end his career in the fallout. You said you want your bullet in Nero's skull, Chris? That will put you on trial and by then the evidence should be damning. Now it's your turn to tell me truthfully. Can _you_ do this, even if it means losing your son's faith in you in the process?"

"I would rather lose him like this than to a weapon in another man's hands."

Ironically, Chris hears the echo of truth in his lie.

If the plan beneath the plan works, Nero will be gone, two networks of gangs uprooted and exposed, and the department rid of its rotten core. More importantly, Jim will be able to live without looking over his shoulder for the next attack; he won't lose sleep for worrying over the safety of his friends and family.

What doesn't matter to Chris is that by the end of it all, he could come out looking like a bad guy despite his real objectives. If not a bad guy, in some form or another a price will still be demanded of him: the respect of his peers, the trust of his family, the recent happiness he has discovered with Jonathan, his career, even his freedom. The requirement of this game is the willingness to sully himself for a greater cause.

Chris is ready to do it.

In finally acknowledging that truth, he begins to wonder if murder wouldn't be such a long step away from his reasoning after all.

Looking at Marcus, a man who has sullied himself beyond redemption, Chris has the answer. Death comes down to a matter of perspective. Murder to some; justice to others.

 _Don't tempt yourself anymore_ , he tells himself. _Let this be enough._

His only comfort is that, whatever happens, Jim and Jon can survive without him. Jim isn't alone in the world anymore; he has many people who care about him. And Jonathan would take Jim under his wing, thereby inviting all Jim's friends along with Jim, which would keep Jon from being lonely too.

Warmed by these thoughts, a genuine smile comes to Pike's face.

Kor clasps Pike's forearm, saying, "Brother, welcome to our family," no doubt taking the smile as a sign that Chris has completely embraced his need for revenge.

"Thank you, Brother," Chris replies in turn, ready to let the world believe no different.


	6. Part Six

**Chapter warning for murder.**

* * *

 **Part Six**

The police cruiser hits a pothole on the highway that makes the vehicle jump and the driver curse. Jonathan takes it in stride, having little attention for anything other than his cell phone. He's chuckling at a text message which claims, _This is a terrible idea._

He texts back, _The terrible idea was running away to begin with._

Hardly surprised when no response is immediately forthcoming, Jon snorts his amusement. The person in the driver's seat wants to know, "What's so funny?"

"Kids," he explains. "Just... kids."

Marlena cocks her head in his direction. "You have children?"

Jon's eyebrows fly up. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

The woman shrugs. "Honestly, I didn't peg you for the family type."

How right she is. Jon doesn't want to admit that, so he tucks his cell phone into the curve of his hands and answers primly, "I am an excellent parent."

Moreau's sideways glance still holds some disbelief. "Then how long have you been married?"

Uh-oh. "I am a... less excellent spouse." Jon mutters after a light cough, "Not a spouse actually."

"Oh, so a single parent. Like Chris," the woman concludes. "That's a tough job."

Crap, he's in over his head now. She is actually imagining him raising a child alone.

Jon is fumbling for a way to explain how he might have led her astray when she asks, "What's your kid's name?"

"Kirk," pops out of his mouth.

Marlena jerks the car into the next lane, by some miracle of God when there isn't oncoming traffic. Her exclamation of "Kirk!" is almost nonsensical.

"Ahaha," Archer laughs nervously, "that's not what I meant! Kirrr—ken! I was going to say Ken but you know," he jests, smacking his own forehead, "Kirk on the brain. So NOT Kirk. My kid, that is."

"You're lying."

"What?"

Marlena shoots him a dirty look. "You're lying again, Sheriff."

"B-But," he bleats, "Kirk really _isn't_ my kid."

"Of course he isn't. He's Pike's. You," she emphasizes, "don't have children."

"Imagine that," Jon mutters, shifting in his seat to lean against the car door—and hopefully out of reach in case Moreau decides violence is a suitable recourse for being lied to. But oddly the woman only shakes her head and reaches out to adjust the radio frequency.

Jon's phone buzzes in his hands. He glances down, sees the alert for a new message. _Spock,_ he reads a moment later, _says his father has lawyers on retainer who have destroyed greater men than you._

Damn, but McCoy is not happy. Jon had guessed that would be the way of things.

With a sigh that is more resigned than amused, he orders, _Just get it done._

As expected, the threat must be more bluff than promise, for Jonathan doesn't hear from Kirk's friends again.

* * *

A dozen reporters crowd the front steps of the precinct, hungry for a story. Out of precaution, Archer and Moreau park in the gated lot adjacent to the station and use the secured door for transporting prisoners to enter the building. The place is a hive of activity now, with the officers of all ranks called in from different assignments, some of them back from their vacations. Liu isn't downplaying the gravity of Pike's situation, it seems. Jonathan approves.

He nearly walks into Marlena when she comes to an abrupt halt just within the archway of the bullpen. Looking past the woman's shoulder, he spies the reason for her reaction. It takes all his willpower not to crow with triumph. Seated in front of desk, chin tucked into his chest, is none other than Kirk.

Feigning an air of surprise, Archer sidles towards the nearest cluster of observers. Moreau shakes off her shock and follows Jon.

"Who found him?" he stage-whispers to the first officer at hand.

A worried-looking Phil whispers back, "No one. He walked in on his own."

"So why hasn't Liu put the cuffs on him yet?"

"The captain wants to figure out his game first."

Archer forces himself not to tense up. "Maybe Kirk came to his senses."

Phil stares at Jon like he has grown a second head.

"Or not," the sheriff mutters and shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, taking in the scene more fully.

Opposite of Kirk is Liu, arms crossed, a vein visibly throbbing in her forehead. Uhura flanks Kirk's chair. Neither woman is speaking, having appeared to settle on communication via staring contest. Caught between them, Jim's posture looks less indolent than it does uncertain.

Damn. Jon had told him to play remorseful. Jim obviously can't do remorseful for very long.

Clearing his throat, Jon prods Phil with his elbow. "Where's the boyfriend and the bodyguard?"

Phil shakes his head in the negative. "Jim said they were on the way to his house. Liu radioed the surveillance team and received confirmation just before you arrived."

 _Beautifully played, Kirk,_ Jon congratulates his cohort silently. That would explain why Liu looks like she has bitten into something sour. She cannot deny there is some truth to Kirk's story.

As if that thought of Jon's has spurred her into action, Liu plants her hands on the desk and leans across it with a menacing air. Uhura curls her hand around the top of Jim's chair. Jim says something. Liu responds. Uhura fires back. Then, on cue, Jim slumps forward a little in regret. Uhura slides her hand to his shoulder. With an obvious reluctance, Liu straightens up, the intensity in her expression dying.

The murmuring around Archer has petered out. No one dares to say a word as Liu looks around her precinct.

A prickling starts between Jon's shoulder blades as the captain's gaze comes to rest upon him.

This time when the woman speaks, her voice carries: "Moreau, Archer, report."

Jon feels a buzzing in his pocket. _Saved by the bell,_ he thinks wryly, pulling out his cell phone and waving it in the air as he backs through the crowd and away from Liu's stare.

"Sheriff," Marlena calls, aghast that he would rather take a phone call than obey her captain.

Jon mouthes, _Sorry_ , and answers his cell. "Archer here."

A voice snarls in his ear, "What the hell is going on!"

Jon momentarily stills out of surprise, then sighs deeply and makes more of an effort to find a corner of the station with no listening ears. He tells his irate caller, "Hold that thought."

Once in an empty hallway and privacy secured (for the most part), Archer faces the wall and ducks his head. His gut says any pretense would be moot so he asks, "How did you know?"

Silence ensues from the other end, a sure sign that his oldest deputy is far from pleased.

"Larry," he tries again, "talk to me."

The deputy says, voice brusque, "Word came from a pair of Kirk's friends. They showed up in a panic, wanting to know what was happening with that detective, Pike." Larry accuses Archer, "You didn't say you would be out of town today to solve a missing persons case."

Jon could never fool his friend. "I didn't know I would be. It just happened."

"It just _happened_ ," his deputy repeats sardonically. "I may have been born at night, Jon, but not last night. The kid wouldn't have called you. You were already there."

Jon's tone hardens. "Where I spend my personal time is none of your business, Deputy." He draws a breath and tries to modulate his voice to a softer tone. "Fine, it's true I was around—which is a damn bit of luck. I can help out the folks here, Larry."

"How did you even convince Pike's captain to take you on?"

He laughs, although the sound contains no amusement. "The captain agreed I was an asset."

"Asset, my ass. You annoyed the hell out of him, didn't you?"

"Her, and I've been told annoyance is my charm."

The line falls into another silence, shorter in duration but far more charged, as if Archer's deputy is making some judgment call about his errant superior.

"Larry?"

Larry finally sounds less pissed. "What do you need us to do?"

"Nothing," Archer replies. "I can handle this."

"I don't doubt that you can... but, boss," his deputy adds, "who's to say we can handle our shit without _you?_ "

Jon feels a pang of guilt. "I'm only a call away."

"You need to rethink this obsession, Jon. I know it burns you up that you haven't closed Kirk's case, but you have to be more careful for all our sakes. It's thin ice over here since you started ignoring the higher-ups."

Jon has a very explicit opinion about what those people can do with themselves, but he acknowledges Larry's point. "I'll take responsibility. Anything else?"

"Just one."

"Tell me."

"What do I do with these guys, Sulu and Chekov? They won't leave."

In the past, Jon would have been outraged. Now he almost smiles. "Feed 'em."

"What?"

"And turn on the news. Kirk's father went missing because he was kidnapped." A loud exclamation causes Jon to jerk the phone away from his ear. When he settles it back in place again, he says, finally amused, "Surprised?"

"You son of a bitch. Matthews," the man barks, "turn on the damn television!"

"If you see my face on channel six, start taping."

"Yeah, the problem will be if we do. The mayor might have an apoplexy."

Jon sobers. "Then that's the way it will have to be. I can't walk away from this one, Larry. I hope you understand."

"Yeah, I do. Just another reason why folks want you in charge. Make us proud, Sheriff."

"Thanks," Jon replies, meaning it, "I'll do my best. Catch you later."

"Definitely later. Shit, I think we lost track of the baby-faced one. Where the hell did that kid go? I told the rookie to watch them but he's on his damn phone again."

"Toodles!" Jon singsongs and hangs up with no lingering reservations.

Whatever the true agenda of Sulu and Chekov at that station is, Jon does not doubt they will take advantage of his scatterbrained crew to accomplish it. Knowing that should make him feel guilty or embarrassed or angry but in the end he can't jeopardize this mission in any way. Chris and Jim come first, which is why Jon is simply not able to walk away. They are his family even if he isn't family to them. One day, perhaps, he will be able to openly admit that if someone asks.

He hears, "Sheriff?" from behind him and tucks away his phone. Then he turns to face the person for whom he has taken responsibility against all good judgment.

"Liu must have let you off the hook," he says.

Jim shrugs a shoulder. "She said she would let my dad decide my punishment."

"Ah, a wise choice." Liu's a kinder soul than Jon has given her credit for; she has basically said she forgives Jim for his reckless actions, although it seems Jim hasn't figured that part out yet.

Jonathan allows for a brief silence before he informs Kirk, "Your boys are terrorizing my department."

The corners of Kirk's mouth quirk as Jim crosses his arms over his chest. "All part of the plan, Sheriff."

"Speaking of, I think it's time we compared notes." At the man's blank stare, Jon clarifies, "Trust and teamwork, remember?"

"Then tell me why you wanted me to come back here," Jim counters. "Or was this a test of _my_ trustworthiness?"

Jon couldn't answer more seriously if he tried. "I do trust you, Jim."

Jim just watches him, neither denying or accepting the claim.

"And I promised I would keep us both in the game." Jon gestures in the direction of the bullpen. "None of them may know it yet but you're my real partner in this investigation."

"Why me?"

In studying Kirk, Jon realizes Jim honestly doesn't know the reason. "Because you're the only person who loves Pike more than I do."

After saying nothing for a long minute, Kirk eventually nods.

Jon is relieved. "What do you say we head over to Liu's office so I can give her that report on Palmetto Row?"

Jim nods again, turning with Archer towards the end of the hall. "Are you going to tell her about your theory?"

"Absolutely. If she can be convinced to send a CSI team to the site, then—" Jon quiets abruptly when he hears the bellow of " _Archer!_ " through a set of closed double doors. "No need to give that woman a bullhorn," he mutters, pushing into the main area of the station.

Standing in front of her office alongside a nervous-looking Moreau, Liu has the air of someone about to enact a public execution.

Liu's gaze finds Jon and this time he obeys her command. But when he reaches her office, she steps aside and a person exits it to confront him.

Jon is simultaneously discomforted and wary of Lt. Marcus's unreadable stare. "What's going on?" he asks Liu.

"Alex has a theory," she says. "Since you were out on the Row today, I want yours and Moreau's opinion."

"Of course, Captain," Marlena replies.

Jon turns to Marcus. Liu does as well.

The man reveals, "We might have a location for Pike's kidnapping."

A hand digs into the back of Archer's jacket. Jim, Jon realizes belatedly, is still with him, equally, if not more so, fixated on what Marcus has to say.

"There's an alley next to a pawn shop on the Row," Marcus continues on. "Perfect spot to perform a kidnapping. I found an eyewitness who says she saw Pike go into that alleyway yesterday afternoon. He didn't come out again."

"Archer," Liu interrupts suddenly, watching Jon closely, "what is it?"

Jon swallows his dismay. "Nothing to feel alarmed about Liu. Only that I think the Lieutenant is on to something."

Marlena adds, "We have footage from a security camera in the area. It could help."

Marcus's gaze snaps to the young officer. "A camera?"

"Yes, sir, I just handed it off to a tech for review."

"Good work," Liu congratulates Moreau. She says to Marcus, "You too, Lieutenant." Her stare encompasses them all. "I'm authorizing a full sweep of the street. We will turn it inside-out. In the meantime, Officer Moreau, I'm placing you in charge of our techs. Their main priority has been pulling from local traffic cams. Continue to work on identifying the kidnappers' vehicle, and also let me know what comes of the footage you obtained. You're dismissed."

Moreau's face lights up to hear her new assignment. Archer doesn't blame her. This turn of events could be a great advancement for her career.

Left now with Marcus and Archer, Liu hesitates as if experiencing a moment's indecision about something.

Marcus turns his attention to the quietest member of their group. "Captain, he shouldn't be here."

Jon bristles on Kirk's behalf. "That's not your call."

"I'm not convinced of your involvement either, Sheriff," Marcus rejoins. "What do you get by jumping jurisdictions?"

Jim is clearly unhappy about Marcus's opinion. "You don't have the authority to make us leave."

"Gentlemen!" Liu snaps all of sudden. Then, "Your opinion wasn't invited on the matter, Alex. Archer stays." Her hesitation returns as she focuses on Kirk

Jon curls his hand around Jim's shoulder. "The boy owned up to his mistake, Liu—and he's not going to interfere in the investigation, are you, Jim?"

"No, sir."

"See? This is the face of true contriteness."

Jim widens his eyes, no doubt hoping his expression has the appropriate appeal.

Liu's mouth flattens into a thin line. "All right, against my better judgment he can stay... for a few more hours." She tells Jim, "But I want you home by dinnertime. Is that clear?"

Jim presses, "Can I come back in the morning?"

"Yes," the woman replies evenly.

"Since that's settled," Jon declares, "I have another mission to take care of."

Liu and Marcus consider him with matching expressions of suspicion.

"What mission would that be, Sheriff?" Liu inquires.

Jon flicks a finger towards the opposite side of the building. "Bathroom. An urgent mission, _very_ urgent if you'll excuse me." He doesn't wait for a reply, hurrying away through the maze of desks.

In Archer's wake, Kirk mutters something apologetic to Liu and Marcus before following the sheriff across the room. Archer veers off at the last second in the outer corridor, pushing into an unlocked janitor's closet he had discovered in his early morning wandering of the precinct.

Once inside, Jon turns around and nearly bumps noses with Kirk.

Jim shuts the door. "It smells in here," he complains. "I would have preferred the bathroom."

"No whining," Jon retorts. "I don't trust police station bathrooms."

"Why?"

"Because I know I bug mine."

Jim makes a face. "That's illegal. And perverted."

Jon dismisses the accusation. "More important topic at hand, Kirk. What do you know about Lt. Marcus?"

Jim is taken aback. "What?"

"Mr. Hard Ass out there. The guy who has beef with your dad." When Jim stares at him without answering, Jon guesses, "So you didn't know either."

"What's going on between Dad and Mr. Marcus?"

"Precisely," he mutters and rubs the side of his face in thought. "I'm starting to wonder if we can trust him."

"Alex wouldn't—" Jim stops and closes his mouth, his visage turning from affronted to considering to solemn.

Jon can be sympathetic and objective at the same time. "Humor me for a moment. Did any of the shop owners question why you were talking to them today?"

"Most of them, because they had talked to Dad the day before."

"Liu sent Marcus ahead of us to investigate. So shouldn't their surprise have come from talking to Marcus, not your father? I'll be honest, Jim, I saw no evidence today that he was there. _You_ were the one they mentioned seeing if Moreau or I asked. She doesn't know that, but I do."

Jim looks troubled. "Then how did he know about the alley?"

"Exactly what I want to know too."

Jim worried his bottom lip with his teeth. "Maybe he didn't talk to the same people we did."

"Or maybe the guy got lucky by interviewing someone on the street. We won't know unless we're willing to call him out on it."

Jim's eyes widen. "Alex wouldn't like that."

 _Tough shit_ , thinks Jon, for he couldn't care less about offending Marcus's sensibilities. But there's something more important that needs to be said, the reason he brought this up in the first place. "Be careful when you're around him, Jim. You've known Marcus a long time, and your inclination is to trust him. But for Pike's sake, be speculative. Especially if facts don't add up. Okay?"

"I can do that," Jim agrees.

"Good," Jon murmurs, relieved. "Let's get out of this damn closet. It's stuffy in here."

Jim doesn't open the door right away. "Can I ask you something?"

Jon is surprised by the request but tries not to show it. "Sure, go ahead."

"If things were reversed, if it was me who was missing instead of Dad, would you tell him the same thing?"

"I don't think I would have to. I doubt Chris would trust a single soul until you were found."

Jim seems to disagree. "He would trust you."

Jon doesn't know what to say to that except, rather awkwardly, "I'm glad you think so."

"I don't know why," Jim goes on to say, "but Dad loves you." He eyes Jon before looking away. "You love him back."

Before Jon can respond, Jim opens the door to the closet and steps outside. His silhouette is a strange one, simultaneously that of someone who is resolved but nonetheless sad. Jon wishes he knew what was going through Kirk's mind; more so, he feels the absence of Chris, who would know what Kirk's look means.

Jon is simply left with the impression he has made the kid unhappy. Even without trying, he has made Jim regret working with him.

Disheartened, Jon exits the closet on his own, and this time he is the one who trails in Kirk's wake.

* * *

The atmosphere of the bullpen is somber upon Archer and Kirk's return. The reason is not immediately apparent, not until Jonathan catches the curious stares directed at a slim, feminine figure talking to Phil.

The woman turns around, and Jim's face lights up. "Number One!" he cries, darting forward.

Jon is left on his own to gape like a fool. Pike's former partner and fiancée is far lovelier than anything his imagination could have conjured—a classic beauty with shoulder-length dark hair, an oval-shaped face, and soft blue eyes. The clean, simple cut of her business suit and white blouse flatters her, the outline of a gun in its holster beneath her jacket adding just a hint of intimidation and danger to the persona.

With a grave expression, the woman opens her arms and rests a hand on Jim's back as Jim hugs her.

Jon should have never teased McCoy about being jealous. The emotion draws out an ugly part of him, whispering to him to distrust her, ignore her. It feeds the insecurities, too, making it difficult for him to brush aside the feeling that this woman should have been the love of Pike's life. Anything he could give Chris would pale in comparison. _See how Jim has no reservations about accepting her?_ his inner voice taunts him. From the way they hold on to each other, they have a closeness Jon could never hope to emulate.

Eventually Number One says something to Jim and gently pushes him aside. When she moves toward Jon, Jon runs a hand over his hair out of nervous habit and wishes he didn't look like he has been on a three-day bender.

Number One offers her hand. "Hello, I am Agent Robbins with the FBI."

"Archer," Jon replies, completing the handshake. "Nice to meet you, ma'am." Damn it, he's too intimidated right now to be rude. He wonders if she knows that.

"Number One," Jim corrects, eyes gleaming.

"I am not your number one," Robbins remarks in a dry tone, then offers an explanation for Jon's sake. "My parents gifted me with a wonderfully traditional but unpronounceable Slavic first name. I shortened it to a version anyone could use, but unfortunately this young man once heard his father refer to me as Number One. For some unfathomable reason he believes it is appropriate to call me that."

Jon says with regret, "Well I _know_ for a fact it's not appropriate for me to call you Number One."

Robbins smiles. "Agent will do fine, Sheriff."

"Ah, so you heard about me."

"A few things here and there," she replies, then hesitates for a moment. "And you must have heard..."

"Don't worry. I told him you dated my dad," Jim interjects, looking not so much like an adult than a child who thinks he has done something exceptionally good.

Though Robbins's reaction is only a slight press of the lips, Jon is embarrassed on her behalf. "Uh, Jim means to say he told me you used to be Pike's partner."

"Yes, that's correct. Detective Pike and I were on the force together before I was recruited to join the Bureau."

Jim frowns, and Jon acts preemptively by looping an arm around Kirk's neck and dragging him close in hopes of stalling another embarrassing remark.

Robbins's lips twitch, but she only adds, "I came in hopes I might be of some use to your investigation."

"Not my investigation, per se. I'm just helping out too." Jon glances around. She wouldn't have come alone; FBI protocol mandates otherwise. "Do you have a partner?"

The woman nods as if she expected that question. "I work on a team of specialists in the White Collar division. Normally our agents don't cross into other areas of investigation but I requested temporary transfer to this assignment. The request was granted based on my history and local knowledge..." She pauses before continuing. "... and with the condition that my superior take responsibility for the outcome."

Jon doesn't like the sound of that, or the way Jim's gaze suddenly becomes hooded.

Kirk says, "Eyebrow Jerk is here?"

Recognizing the amused resignation in Robbins's eyes, Archer tightens his arm around Kirk. "Don't worry about this one, Agent. He's on a short leash."

The woman's mouth curls the tiniest bit. "I thought leashes were for puppies."

"Well he can get out of the handcuffs."

"Hey, right here," Jim complains, squirming slightly under Archer's arm. "I protest this kind of talk."

"Oh, Jim," says Pike's Number One, "I have missed you."

Jim blinks and then adopts a dopey grin. It isn't a far stretch of the imagination for Jon to picture a teenaged version of Kirk with that same grin. Did Jim have a crush on his father's girlfriend at some point?

Robbins seems to think so, for she says more dryly, "At least you're legal now."

During Archer's coughing fit, Jim escapes the arm around his neck and takes the opportunity to show off his grown-up self, posing very charmingly—albeit dramatically—in front of Robbins. She laughs.

"Ugh," emphasizes Jon, "the brat's also taken. Remember that, kiddo?"

"Oh right," recalls Kirk, his eyes lighting up as he laughs a little too. "Number One, you're gonna love Bones. He's great!"

"Is that the one named Leonard McCoy? I heard something about him too. He and I shall definitely meet."

How has she been 'hearing' things? Jon wonders. From whom?

Before he can ask, their conversation is interrupted by the arrival of a newcomer and the unenthusiastic recitation of their names: "Sheriff, Kirk... Detective Robbins."

The sparkle of humor disappears from Robbins's eyes; her expression turns neutral. "It's Agent Robbins now. Hello, Marcus. How are you?"

Jon is sensing some distinctive tension from both parties as they take measure of one another. Even Jim, previously chipper at thought of introducing his boyfriend to his father's ex-girlfriend, subsides enough to look between Marcus and Robbins questioningly.

Marcus says, "I admit I'm surprised to see you, Una. It seemed to me you left this place behind with no intentions of coming back."

"Jim called me about Chris. I thought I should help."

"Ah." Marcus's gaze flicks to Kirk. "I should have known. Chris always was the one who could change your mind."

There's a history between them that isn't pleasant, Jonathan surmises. And once again, Pike happens to be in the middle of it. Jon is reminded that he truly knows so little about his lover's past—or even present.

At Marcus's comment, a subtle flinch is the only crack in Robbins's mask, there and gone. Her voice remains cool. "Sir, I believe we can agree that the past has no place in the present. Tell me, what is the status of the investigation?"

Marcus folds his arm over his chest. "You'll have to ask Liu. I wouldn't know." He dips his head in the direction of the captain's office and adds, "She should be pleased to see you." Then he walks away.

Jon rubs at his brow, murmuring, "That was ugly."

Robbins's mouth presses into a line. "I expected worse."

Jim looks at the woman in concern. "Why was he like that?"

She sighs. "It's... nothing much, Jimmy. Just old wounds between Alex and me."

Jim frowns.

Jon thinks Pike would understand and Pike wouldn't have stayed silent at Marcus's brusque greeting. Also, it's interesting that Chris did not share some of his troubles with his son either. Jon is beginning to think that Robbins's decision to leave the precinct—and her fiancée, for that matter—for the FBI wasn't a simple goodbye. Is Chris still bitter about it as apparently Marcus is?

"Number One," Jim says, still concerned, "did Dad—?"

Robbins cuts him off. "Jim, let's not borrow more trouble—at least not until after we know your father is all right." She offers Kirk a small smile and an unexpected wink. "And don't give me any sass, solider."

"Ma'am! No, ma'am!" Jim chirps in response and salutes like a boy scout, clearly enacting some old joke between them. But he glances sideways at Archer as he holds his salute, eyes dancing.

 _Boy,_ Jon thinks, narrowing his eyes in return at his charge, _don't even consider it. I am not going to help you find a way around that promise._

"I wanna see Eyebrow Jerk in person," Kirk declares without warning, dropping his hand back to his side. He hurries off in the direction of Liu's office.

Robbins pivots to stand beside Jon, both of them watching Kirk go.

Curious, he asks, "Eyebrow Jerk?"

"Jim was upset for a time after I moved to D.C. I took funny pictures of my new boss and sent them to him until he was willing to talk to me again. After that, it's become something of a little joke. Jim came up with the nickname obviously." She looks to Jon. "People tend to agree with the sentiment after they meet Gaius."

Despite himself, Jon likes this woman. "And here I didn't think the day could get more interesting." When Robbins continues to look at him expectantly, he blinks. "What?"

"Your turn. Who are you?"

Jon points to the emblem on his jacket. "A sheriff."

"No," Robbins clarifies, "I meant who are you to Jim and Chris? He likes you."

Jonathan's eyes nearly bug out. How does she know that Chris likes him? Does _everyone_ know they're dating?

The woman's gaze tracks across the bullpen again, to where Jim is attempting to peep through one of the blinds-covered windows. "Kirk has always had difficulty opening up to new people but once he decides he likes a person... for the lack of a better way to put it, you will be hard-pressed to be rid of him. But I imagine you know that by now."

"No," Jon says with undisguised honesty, "I don't. Agent, I think you may have made a mistake. Jim does not like me."

An arrested look comes into the woman's eyes. "That cannot be."

"Yeah it can. He hates me, actually. Loathes with a passion. Only, I guess you could say we have come to a recent understanding... given the circumstances," Jon finishes grimly.

"An understanding?" Robbins repeats, mystified, then more slowly as her confusion clears, "Oh, I see. You must be dating Chris."

Oh shit. How did he step into that one? But Jon has a feeling he can't tell a lie to this Number One and get away with it. He subtly nods confirmation.

Despite a neutral expression, Robbins's voice is sympathetic when she says, "As someone who has lived the experience, Sheriff, I can tell you that Jim is not concerned with hating you."

"What does that mean?"

She huffs softly, perhaps in exasperation, and draws a breath as if to explain—just as the door to Liu's office flies open and the captain herself yells, "Kirk!"

"Oh no," Jon says.

"Jim," murmurs Robbins.

Jim has peeled his face off the window, head up and searching at the sound of his name. If he had a tail, it would be wagging.

Intent on intercepting Pike's son from meeting certain disaster, Jon strides forward, Robbins already ahead of him and drawing Liu's attention to her with "Gretchen, how wonderful to see you again!"

Jon takes that as his cue to branch off towards Kirk and grab the man by the back of his hoodie.

"Wait, where are we going?" Jim says, simultaneously confused and excited as Jon drags him through the bullpen. "I think the captain has an assignment for me!"

"Oh, I doubt that," Jon replies. He pushes Jim into the seat across from Carlos, then draws the officer's badge out of his jacket pocket and flips it onto the desk. "Lose something?" he questions smoothly.

Carlos picks his badge up and pales.

"Don't let the kid up from this chair," Jon threatens him, "or I might fail to forget that I found it."

Carlos mumbles, "Yes, sir."

Jon leans down so he is eye-level with Kirk. "I will find out what Liu wants. You will stay here."

Jim demands, "Why?"

"Because you're low on the totem of authority. Stay. Here."

Jim pops up from the chair as soon as Archer turns his back.

Jon whirls around. "Bad Kirk!"

"I don't care what is it," Jim insists. "I can do it. I _will_ do it."

 _I'll be the judge of that, kiddo._ "One word, Kirk: teamwork," he reminds Pike's son. "Be back in a minute." He shoots Carlos a _you're dead if he follows me_ look.

Carlos hurries around the desk to take hold of Jim's arm.

As he strides from the bullpen again, Jon feels eyes on him. Kirk's, obviously, but also the interest of someone else. Then he spots Lt. Marcus off to the side, sipping from a mug and unabashedly observing him.

Liu turns from her conversation with Robbins at Archer's approach. Wordlessly, she motions them both into her office. Inside, the man who rises from a chair next to the desk to offer a hand is can be none other than Robbins's boss. He would be identifiable alone by his caterpillar-like eyebrows. As he looks Archer over while they shake hands, his brow furrows and the caterpillars form an angry v-shape. He doesn't seem angry, though, so Jon decides this must be a normal look for him. Jon is a little insulted that after their handshake, the guy studiously wipes down his hand with a white handkerchief.

Liu begins, "I debriefed Agent Gaius on our case. He has an idea that may draw out the kidnappers."

"Oh?" Jon replies politely even as an uneasy feeling comes over him.

Robbins stares at her boss with barely disguised apprehension.

Drawing in a breath, Jon braces himself for the obvious. "You called for Jim earlier. Does it involve him?"

"We would like Mr. Kirk to make a public statement about his father's kidnapping," Gaius explains.

"That's a good idea." Marcus steps into the room. "I'll take him home to prepare."

Jon turns sharply to the door, surprised by the fact that he hadn't noticed Marcus loitering there. "No, I'll do it."

Liu disagrees. "Lt. Marcus can assist the agents with setting up for the interview at Kirk's house. I need you here, Archer."

He doesn't like that idea. "I should be part of the interview."

Gaius's gaze snaps to him. "Are you saying you want to _participate,_ Sheriff? In what capacity?"

Damn. "That's not what I meant. Jim will need guidance on what to say. I have experience at this."

"So do I," Marcus counters.

Liu shakes her head.

Jon's losing the battle and he hates it. He had just promised Jim they were going to work together. Now Liu is determined to split them apart. He can't make her understand without admitting that he intends to involve Kirk and friends in the investigation, which Liu will hardly appreciate. For instance, while they are haggling over who can drive Jim where, Uhura is somewhere else in the building, obtaining copies of the camera footage Moreau had found earlier that day. Jim's team must be allowed to operate in some capacity just to keep them from going crazy. It's harder than Jon imagined trying to keep anyone else from noticing what they are up to.

"Sheriff?"

He realizes Liu, Robbins, and Gaius are staring at him, waiting for his reaction.

No choice, really. "I'll stay behind."

"As will I," Robbins declares.

Jon is surprised.

So, apparently, is the woman's boss. "Agent Robbins," the man begins, tone dismayed.

"One of us should review the evidence, sir." Robbins adds without rancor, "And with all due respect, you're better suited to handle the press release than I am."

Gaius puffs up. "I couldn't agree more." He orders Liu, "Provide my agent with everything she needs, Captain. You there, Lt. Marcus, is it? Fetch Mr. Kirk. We shall take my car."

Liu sighs after Marcus and Gaius are gone. "I guess I should call Garamond back. This will make his day."

Robbins looks between them briefly in silence before leaving them alone.

"Tell me one thing," Jon says to Liu. "Do you think putting Kirk on the news will really do some good?"

"It couldn't hurt," she replies. "In the meantime, it gives us some room to breathe."

He understands her motives all too well. "I hate working with the FBI," he mutters.

Liu reminds him, "It's not always a bad deal."

"Yeah, when the agents are here to help, I would agree."

Liu drops into her chair. "So you sensed it too. Gaius is a publicity hound."

And possibly a very real detriment to their investigation. That can't be helped now. Jon remarks, "You said you needed me here. What can I do?"

Liu stays silent for a moment. "Marcus said something of interest earlier. I want you to pursue it." She meets his gaze steadily. "Confirm if Nero is involved."

Jon plants a hand on top of the chair in front of him but otherwise is able to contain his reaction. "Liu, are you certain you want to go there?"

"It's more than a possibility and you know it," she replies.

"Then why not let Marcus chase this particular rabbit down the hole? He wants it."

"I have my reasons, Archer." Pike's boss pauses. "Are you in or not?"

"I am, Captain." Jon pushes away from the chair and heads for the closed door. "That I am."

On the other side of the door stands Jim and, behind Jim, Marcus looking nonplussed.

"Do I do this or not?" Jim asks Archer without preamble.

"Jim," Marcus calls, "we're leaving now!"

Kirk continues to stare at Jon.

Jon swallows his sigh. "Time to give it a rest, kiddo. Have the Lieutenant pick some dinner up for you on the way home." He adds more quietly, "And check your texts."

Jim turns away, drawing up his hood to cover his face, and begins a determined march from the station that to others might look angry. Uhura appears at the last second next to the double doors, tucks Kirk's arm through hers, and escorts him out, leaving Agent Gaius to bluster and demand that Marcus explain who she is.

Jon doesn't miss the way Uhura looks back over her shoulder directly at him. He wonders what secret she has left behind—or is taking with her from the grounds as she leaves.

* * *

After Marcus's departure, Kor offers Chris some hospitality: a meal and a change of clothes. The outfit, however, looks suspiciously like something Chris might wear during a day off from work, and comes equipped with a baseball cap, sunglasses, and a wallet. When he checks the wallet, he finds only one item: his bank card.

Kor tells him. "You will need enough cash for a bribe."

Chris looks about, raising an eyebrow. "Surely you have plenty of cash, Kor."

Kor chuckles. "It is not the money which matters, Detective, but the source. Come, we will take a little trip together."

Uneasy now, Chris suspects this trip won't involve a trip to an actual bank with witnesses. "Please tell me we aren't robbing a convenience store."

Kor simply grins to hear this.

An hour later, Chris is loaded into a nondescript black van with a blindfold and driven into town. He doesn't have the luxury of catching the clock on the van's dashboard because of his blindfold so he settles for counting the time until they arrive at their destination.

Kor, who apparently finds no one as trustworthy as himself, takes charge of the rendezvous. "We shall leave you near one of your bank's ATMs. Make a withdraw. And in case you might consider this an opportunity to escape, I have men following you, Detective."

Chris suppresses a grimace. "Exactly how much money do you want? I'm not a rich man."

"We plan to make a few stops," Kor says. "I suggest you be judicious."

"Wonderful," he mutters.

When the van stops and idles, Pike's blindfold is removed and he experiences some difficulty adjusting to the sudden increase in light. Then, before he knows what is happening, he is summarily shoved from the van into a parking lot.

A sudden sense of freedom swamps Chris as the van roars away. He could run. Oh, he could.

Tugging the cap low over his face, Chris looks left and right. No signs of the shadows Kor had mentioned. He jogs across the street and casually walks in the direction of the ATM. This street is quieter than usual, given that it appears to be late afternoon. He bypasses a pair of teens on their cell phones, two other people of varying ages walking alone with their heads down, and an elderly woman is trying to make her way down an apartment building stoop unaided. Under normal circumstances Chris would offer to help her but he doesn't fancy being shot in the street.

When he crosses to the next block, he spots the first shadow easily. The man sticks out like a sore thumb among the pedestrian traffic. The third block up, yet another suspicious character is smoking by a street lamp and makes eye contact with Chris as he approaches the ATM. Chris retrieves his bank card and feeds it to the machine. He hesitates over the option of picking his checking or his savings account. The savings account is part emergency fund, part nest egg he had planned to give to Jim when Jim was ready to buy his own house. However the checking account isn't flush with available funds since his paycheck isn't due in for another week.

He laughs, then, realizing how silly he is for worrying about an overdraft in his current predicament. He withdraws cash from his checking account, as much as the ATM will allow at one time, and pockets it. Afterwards he has a moment's indecision as he stands midway between the ATM and the thug standing by the street lamp. Then Kor's man flicks his cigarette to the ground and comes towards him, hand ominously sliding to a back pocket. With an internal sigh, Pike pivots away and begins the journey back the way he came.

The van picks him up in the same parking lot, where disappointingly Chris cannot visually locate any cameras. Kor has planned this outing well.

They don't blindfold him for the next two trips around town, each time stopping in an abandoned lot or behind a building while Chris has to find an inconspicuous way to access the nearby ATM. At the end of the venture, the sun has begun a slow descent from the sky and Chris's pockets are stuffed with nearly a thousand dollars. If the bank activity hasn't already triggered a warning to Liu's department, the fact that his checking account is now empty of funds will certainly inform his son that something is wrong.

Before the van pulls back onto the main road, Kor has Pike blindfolded again.

"What now?" he asks his captor.

"A surprise," comes the answer.

Chris doubts he would like any surprise that comes from these men. He isn't wrong.

The first sign of something amiss is that the van stays on the road longer than it initially took to reach the place where he was being held. Even if Chris factors in the distance between the first and the last ATM, it takes much too long for the ride come to an end. And when it does end with their van jostling down an unpaved road, Chris's stomach has turned over in alarm.

Kor removes the blindfold as the van comes to a jolting stop. Chris peers out the side window and, in the dusk, sees nothing but farmland around them. He twists at the waist to look out the back window as well, dismayed to see they had picked up an entourage on the way here. Another van of the same make and model idles just behind theirs on the dirt road.

"What are you thinking, Detective?" Kor asks, his fingers steeped and his gaze shrewd.

Chris calls up a nonchalance he doesn't feel. "I'm thinking this looks like a place you dump a body."

"Very astute of you."

Pike would have preferred crass humor to this calm demeanor of Kor's. "I thought we had a deal."

"Get out," Kor tells everyone.

The man in the front seat lefts a hand-radio to his mouth and speaks rapidly in another language. A man comes out of the second van, then, trudging over to their van to slide open its door and grab Pike's arm, dragging Pike outside. Kor follows leisurely, speaking in that other language to the swarthy fellow who still has a bruising grip on Chris's arm.

To Pike he says, "Come this way, Detective."

"What's the meaning of this, Kor?" Chris demands as he is herded along into the field beyond the road. _Was I right? Are they going to kill me here and walk away?_

"You sound afraid, Detective."

"Should I be?"

Kor stops walking, as does the group following him. He turns on Pike, placing a hand on Chris's shoulder. "Only if you disappoint me."

Which means Kor has something on his mind that Chris won't like at all.

Kor calls to the men loitering alongside the second van, "Bring him!"

Chris looks on, first in surprise then in horror as a man, bound, gagged and bruised from a beating, is dragged from the van's opposite side. As the captive is brought forward, Chris can see a blue tattoo standing out starkly against his pale, sweat-slicked skin. The tattoo has a scar running through it; it isn't fake.

He swallows hard. "Who is this?"

Kor's eyes glitter. "A mutual enemy."

One of the Kor's men boxes their prisoner upside the head when he screams in rage through the rag over his mouth. Hatred burns in the man's eyes as he pins his gaze first on Kor, then on Pike.

Chris can't help but ask, "What is he doing here, Kor?"

"Providing a fail-safe, if you will. Your Lieutenant's idea." Kor turns away, rumbling with satisfaction, "Ah, speak of the devil. He comes."

An old Charger roars down the road, a model of car Chris hasn't seen in a decade and certainly one he never associated with Marcus. Marcus draws to a stop by the parked vehicles and kills his car's noisy engine. Then he climbs out with a slam of the door and approaches them, making plain to all what is in his possession.

Suddenly Chris has a good idea of what is supposed to happen here—and the thought chills him to the bone.

"You found my gun," he states, unable to keep his voice as level as he would like it.

Marcus lifts the weapon registered in Pike's name in one gloved hand. "It was right where you said it would be." He motions to the bound man. "Is this the one?"

"A favorite of Nero's," Kor confirms, clearly pleased with the choice of victim.

Chris feels sick.

Marcus nods dispassionately. To the men holding the fellow, he speaks in their native tongue. One of them opens a switchblade and cuts the man's bindings around his wrists; the other removes the gag. The man immediately pushes out of their grasp and falls to the ground, tugging wildly at the rope around his ankles like he knows his window for escape is narrowing rapidly. He jumps to his feet when he is entirely free, poised on the brink of running but clearly not certain if he should turn his back on them. He opens his mouth, then closes it again on a growl instead of words, spitting in the direction of the men who had held him hostage.

Kor huffs and says in disgust, "A useless cur. Let him run back to his master."

Upon hearing this, hope sparks in the man's eyes and he turns to flee.

Wordlessly, Alex lays a hand on Chris's shoulder and offers him the butt of the gun.

"No," Chris chokes, "this wasn't the plan."

"Plans are meant to be changed," Marcus remarks mildly. Without further ceremony, he takes aim at the fleeing man's back and fires twice.

The man drops into the field, not even crying out, twitches and goes still.

Kor cheers, "Now it begins!" To his team, he orders, "Remove our fallen friend to somewhere more appropriate."

"And I'll take care of this." Marcus pulls a plastic evidence bag out of his pants pocket and drops Chris's firearm into it.

Chris cannot look at the dead man Kor's men are dragging across the field to a tarp others are laying out for transporting the body.

"Chris."

Pike turns to stare at Marcus, the friend who also used to be a role model—and who just murdered a man in cold blood without flinching.

Marcus studies Chris's expression as he tucks Chris's gun into the back of his pants. "Next time it has to be you," he warns.

Chris says nothing.

Marcus seems disappointed.

Kor lays a hand on both men's shoulders. "My Brothers, I welcome you to my house. Let us celebrate the start to a profitable venture! Come." He leads Pike by a rather forceful hand back to the van. There he waves away a man waiting with a blindfold and grips Pike's forearm. "You did not protest as much as I anticipated, Detective. I believe you are ready to join us."

"I'm disappointed that you didn't discuss this change in plans with me first," Chris says, steel coming into his voice. "Tell me, do you intend to continue testing my resolve, or has this little display satisfied you?"

Kor smiles. "How can I not be satisfied, Brother? An innocent man has died by your weapon. Now you are a murderer like us."

Chris looks past Kor's shoulder, following Marcus's solitary trek to his car. Yes, he shall be a murderer in the eyes of the law. Marcus is going to great lengths to make certain of that.

Marcus pauses next to his car, meeting Pike's gaze. "Watch the news if you have the chance. Your boy will be on tomorrow."

The simple mention of Jim makes Chris tear up. He blinks away the evidence of his misery and climbs into the front of the van. Kor shuts the door and not long after makes himself comfortable in the back with several others. He chatters among his people, at ease, while all Chris can think about is what must come next.

Rubbing his hands along his jeans, for the first time in Chris's life he feels unclean in a way that cannot easily be absolved. A man died today, pointlessly, because he was too much of a coward to save a life. How can Chris forgive himself for that?

He looks in the rearview mirror and watches Kor.

And just who is going to die next?

* * *

 **Note: Number One was never given a real name in TOS. Several different sources sought to correct this by saying as she is Illyrian, her name is too difficult to pronounce. 'Una' is used as a first name for her in the novel _Captain to Captain_. The _Star Trek: Early Voyages_ comics gives her the family name Robbins. She has also been known as Robin Lefler or Leigh Hudec, depending on which sources you read. Personally, I thought Una Robbins was a nice name and hence have adopted here. **


	7. Part Seven

**Yes, I know... This chapter took forever! It was partly due to me being out of the country for a few weeks and also because I simply could not focus on what was happening here. Never fear, though. I am not one to give up on a story - especially when a character's life hangs in the balance!**

* * *

 **Part Seven**

Robbins flips the last report closed to watch Archer pace the length of the conference room. Jon slows to a standstill only because having her undivided attention is unnerving. Gesturing at the stacked reports, he states, "Now you know about as much as the rest of us."

"Yet perhaps not as much as you know," the woman responds, her tone brusque without being overly rude. "So tell me something I won't read in a report."

Jonathan weighs his good judgment against his loyalty to the government, only to recall with a snort that he has no real loyalty to anyone who wishes to dictate his actions with a handbook.

Clearly unappreciative of silence as a response, the agent drums her fingers against the tabletop. She regroups her efforts to draw him into conversation by saying, "If you are not inclined to cooperate..." but then without warning drops the threat and softens her expression. "Jonathan," she discloses, "I am willing to dispense with the bullshit if it means you can be honest with me—for Pike's sake."

"Because you want to find him as much as I do," Jon acknowledges.

Robbins nods once, as if that is confirmation of her motive and his assent, and abandons her chair in order to close the conference room door and grant them a semblance of privacy.

Jon resists the urge to cast a wary glance around the air ducts and lighting fixtures. Now is not the time to indulge his more paranoid notions.

"First," he begins when Robbins turns back to him, "assure me this isn't about your career advancement as much as it is about Pike, or something worse like trying to make that pompous boss of yours look good on camera."

The woman's mouth twitches. "I have no empirical evidence for you. You'll have to trust me."

"I can be convinced," he insists.

Robbins's silence speaks more of her consideration of his request than her reluctance. "I may be able to offer something after all," she says eventually. When Jon raises eyebrow, Robbins clarifies, "A secret. Christopher... left me."

Jon rocks back on his heels.

"We agreed it would cause less questions if people assumed I was the one to break off the relationship."

"You mean you wanted them to think you picked your career over your fiancée." Jon is intrigued despite himself. He certainly had not pictured Chris to be the one to let go of a woman like Robbins. "Why would he agree to that?"

A hint of a smile touches Robbins's face. "I believe you can guess the reason."

Jon draws in a breath—and releases it in a whoosh as he makes the connection. "Oh geez. He did it for Jim. Of course. Of course that idiot did!" Rubbing his forehead, now Jon has to know, "What did Chris think he was sparing his son?"

"I suppose one would say heartbreak." Robbins shakes her head slightly. "Truth be told, Chris and I had reached a point of no return." Sadness passes through her eyes. "I wasn't happy here. I wanted to become more, but there were obstacles—"

Jon can guess that one of those obstacles was named Marcus. That would explain the tension between them earlier.

"—and so when the opportunity came up to go to D.C., I was ready to pack up and leave."

"But Chris didn't want to uproot Jim."

"Sometimes I wonder if it hadn't been for Jim, if Chris would have considered moving." She shakes her head again, in dismissal of her words. "Nonetheless, I believe his decision was as much for my good as for Jim's. Not," Robbins adds quickly, as though Jon might come up with the accusation, "that I blame anyone for how things turned out. Hindsight has shown me that Chris and I had too many differences for one of us not to be forced to make sacrifices along the way."

"Oh."

In the ensuing silence, Robbins begins to study Jonathan in a different manner than before, like he's a puzzle she needs to solve without delay.

Sweat breaks out along on his forehead. The caffeine, he reasons with himself. It's because of too much caffeine.

"You know," the woman remarks at length, "Chris has always desired a partner in raising his family. While I can be a good friend to Chris and his son, I am not suited to be either a wife or a mother."

 _Well neither am I_ , Jon retorts mentally.

Watching the agent prop a hip against the table and cross her arms over her chest, Jon has the distinct impression he is now the subject of an interrogation. As a counter-play, he mirrors the woman's stance and attempts to redirect the conversation. "I don't think Kirk wanted you to be his mother."

Robbins lifts a corner of her mouth. "Jim can be quite the charmer. Chris often despaired of him."

"Kid's a nuisance if you ask me."

"I suspect you like him that way."

Check-and-mate. Archer chokes on his own spit. Why do people keep insisting that he _likes_ Kirk? Oh hell. At some point his reputation as the uncaring jackass became ruined. It must be Kirk's fault.

Robbins is back to studying him again. "Do you feel you have enough leverage against me now?"

Jon wouldn't call her 'secret' leverage, per se, but it is something he could use against her to upset the relationship between Chris and Jim because Jim would be absolutely keen on taking the blame for upsetting Pike's happily-ever-after with Robbins.

Ah... Now Jon sees. _That_ is the leverage she has given him. Smart lady. His respect for Robbins doubles.

And, he decides, if she is willing to trust him with information that could harm the Pike-Kirk relationship if ever revealed, then he too can extend a modicum of trust. "What did Chris tell you about Jim's incident last month?" he begins.

Robbins frowns. "What incident?"

Sensing he is about to cause a minor disturbance in Robbins's world, Jon uncrosses his arms and slides off the table. "Incident is a mild term, actually. Jim was," here he has to swallow, "nearly beaten to death." Saying that aloud brings back ugly memories.

Robbins's initial response is a soft gasp. Then her gaze transforms from tear-bright to hard chips of sapphire. When she snaps forward, Jon scuttles out of range and puts his hands up in a defensive gesture.

"When was this!" the woman cries, then curses in the next breath, "That son of a _bitch!_ "

Sorry, Chris, Jon apologies silently. "Um, it happened in August."

Robbins stalks around the table. "And when did Pike plan to tell me—at his son's funeral?"

Jon tries to keep the table between them. "I can't answer that."

Her eyes glitter dangerously. "Oh, you will give me answers."

"Okay, seriously, lady? I'm just the boyfriend," he jokes with wide-eyed apprehension. "Chris doesn't tell me shit." An thought occurs that has him crowing a second later, "He didn't even tell me about you!"

That, for some reason, halts the irate woman in her tracks. "He didn't?"

"No," Jon confesses, "because obviously Chris is a fool when it comes to sharing personal trauma. He doesn't tell you about the attack on his kid, doesn't tell me about his impressive ex-fiancée, or even think of mentioning that he might be walking on egg shells at work."

The woman says nothing for a minute. Then, "Who's bothering him at work?"

"Your old buddy Marcus."

Robbins thins her lips. "Marcus is no friend of mine."

"You could say that again."

"Marcus," she adds in a graver tone, "will never forgive Chris for surpassing him as a detective. He certainly refused to forgive me."

Intrigued again, Jon tucks his hands into his armpits. "So what if I told you he might be a suspect?"

Robbins appears to take the suggestion seriously. "I would need more information."

"You just named a motive." Jon flattens his mouth, thinking. "But I will admit one man couldn't pull off a kidnapping like this alone and I'm not familiar enough with this town to know who Marcus might use to help him."

Robbins frowns. "What else makes you suspicious of Marcus?"

"Three things," Jon explains. "One, I have reason to believe he hasn't done his due diligence on this case, which calls into question how he is drawing his conclusions. Two, the man is also overly confident about those conclusions. Now, don't get me wrong—I like to think my wisdom is infallible too but I've been in this business long enough to know what is improbable can still be possible. In other words, any good cop has more doubts than assertions."

Robbins nods. "What's your third reason?"

Jon grins. "The man's a jackass, and I don't like him."

"Hm." Robbins folds her arms over her suit jacket and walks slowly around the perimeter of the table.

Jon wonders what she might be thinking. "Feel free to share."

"As I read the case file, I had this feeling I was missing something. Now that makes me curious. Could your theory explain my lack of unease?"

"Shall I guess what bothered you?"

Robbins turns towards him. "Be my guest."

"The kidnapping lacks substance." At the look on her face, Jon knows he has hit the mark. He continues, "One vague ransom note but no subsequent contact. A destroyed squad car minus the only part with actual tracking capability. Pristine condition of the evidence that offers no DNA markers of any kind. It's as if someone is thumbing his nose at us, knowing we cannot solve this case."

"Or," Robbins reasons, "creating an illusion of a crime when there is not one."

Jon stiffens. "Now wait a minute. I didn't say there couldn't be a crime. Christopher _has_ been kidnapped."

Robbins looks regretful. "Do we know that for certain?"

Suddenly he's pissed—angry enough to slam a fist down on the table, which he does in short order. "Damn you."

"Sheriff," the agent says disapprovingly.

"You _know_ Pike," Jon snaps. "Where do you get off insinuating that—"

"Because it's my job to consider every angle," Robbins snaps back before Jonathan can finish. "And yes I know your lover extremely well. If you think Pike is not capable of pulling off something like this, you're wrong."

Jon forces himself to swallow his anger. "I didn't say he wasn't capable, Agent. Hell, the man is the fucking smartest cop I have ever met. If he wanted to screw us over, we would be up shit creek. My point is that Pike _wouldn't_ do this. How could he, knowing it would scare his son half to death? Do you think Chris could risk his family—and yes I know that is his number one priority—for the sake of..." Here Jon flounders.

"Say it," she orders.

"Revenge," he finishes.

Robbins repeats that word flatly, as a warning that she wants to know what Jonathan has not told her.

Damn, he has trapped himself. There is nothing he can do now but confess: "Jim's near-death experience was courtesy of an a-hole named Nero. It happened on my watch. And since I couldn't catch Nero, neither Pike nor Kirk have had closure over it." The swell of sympathy in her eyes doesn't make him angry, just ashamed. "But whether that's a demon haunting Pike or not, I simply can't believe he would choose revenge over his own kid."

"Make no mistake, Archer, Chris could and would hurt his son if it meant keeping Jim safe."

A bad habit Jim must have learned from his father since Kirk hurt his boyfriend not long ago by adopting roughly the same reasoning.

"There has to be another reason for your belief," Robbins insists, surprising Jon.

He nods. "Pike promised Kirk he would stay out of the investigation." And what an interesting little chat that had been, because Chris had made his promise with the utmost seriousness of an officer swearing his oath for the first time. In the back of Jonathan's mind, he had been expecting Chris to leave himself a loophole to wriggle out of, but later Chris had told Jon that he knew Jon and his deputies were doing everything possible to close the case and his getting involved would only complicate their work. That didn't mean, Chris had explained matter-of-factly, that he wouldn't consider putting a bullet through one of the bad guys if he came across them by happenstance. It simply meant Chris felt he could not place Jim in the position of worrying about his need for revenge on a constant basis.

Strange, but now that Archer thinks about it, at the time Chris had alluded to a colleague who, years ago, had placed undue stress on his family by doing exactly that—seeking revenge.

Jon rubs his knuckles against his jaw. Soon he realizes that silence has descended in the conference room.

Robbins rallies from her own private contemplation to inquire, "Have you been at this precinct since Pike went missing?"

Oh no. Hearing an echo of Liu in Robbins's tone, he hedges, "Not the entire time."

"But you have not gone home," she states.

He can hardly deny that.

"Have you slept?" the woman questions in a gentler tone.

Jon swallows an automatic retort of _Do you think I could?_ "Some." Frankly, he could lay down on one of the benches in the bullpen with his hat over his face for an hour, and nobody would have to know that he isn't actually asleep. Hey, that is a good plan.

Robbins just looks at him.

"I'm taking care of myself," he lies.

"I should hope so. Setting a proper example is paramount to being Chris's partner. Otherwise his son has no one to emulate."

Jon feels a headache coming on. "I'm hardly someone that kid should be emulating."

"I disagree. Chris decided to keep you around for a reason."

"Yeah, that reason being he's too nice and I'm a stalker."

Instead of laughing, Robbins opens the door to the conference room. "Stalking is a punishable offense. Now excuse me a moment, Sheriff. I need to speak with the Captain."

"Don't mention the Lieutenant!" he calls after her, then drags out a chair and sits down. Cradling his head in his hands seems like a good thing for Jonathan to do, so he does.

Has he accomplished anything useful other than to stir up mama-bear instincts at this precinct? God, what would Chris do now?

"Not give up," Jon murmurs to himself. Sitting up, he states more firmly, "Don't give up. You're Sheriff in this town." He pauses. "Well, not _this_ town, but you're still a fucking sheriff. Time to put on your big-boy britches and get your old ass in gear."

Pep talk completed, he strides for the door. He promised Liu he would work the Nero angle, and he will. In fact, it is far past time he made a stop at home, like Robbins was not-so-subtly suggesting. He is going to need the help of Kirk's crew after all.

And Jonathan knows just where to start. Those two upstarts, Sulu and Chekov, ought to have his team hiding under their desks by now.

* * *

Late afternoon has given way to evening, and part of the staff has trickled out of the office, replaced by fresher faces. Another team meeting, this time centered on Moreau's tech team, has just ended. A squadron of people are filing out of Liu's office. Trusting Robbins to debrief him later on the relevant results, Jon has done a little personal scouting of various desks—the one of which he searched most thoroughly belonging to Lt. Marcus.

" _Archer._ "

Jon freezes in the act of shrugging on his jacket and slyly, or so he assumes, shoving a few papers inside said jacket to sneak out of the precinct. Oh shit, he thinks just as Liu makes a beeline towards him. Casually drawing his hand out of his jacket, he pretends he is not trying to squish a file folder against his side with his elbow to prevent it from falling to the floor.

"Going somewhere?" Liu questions in a mild tone, coming to a stop an arm's length away and folding her arms in a disapproving way.

"Uh, home. Like you suggested. And Robbins."

Her gaze skims his appearance. "I won't deny that you could use some grooming."

"Oh, I've looked worse."

"I'm certain," she counters dryly. Her posture relaxes somewhat. "Very well. Keep me apprised."

He nods. "Will do, Captain." Curious now, he wonders why she seems to be hesitating instead of turning away. When she does finally speaks, he is taken aback. "...Thank you?" he echoes.

"Yes, thank you." Liu holds out a hand. "Even if I can't appreciate how you brought me here, thank you for reaching out. We both know how much worse this could have gone if not for your quick action."

Jonathan shakes her hand. "You're welcome." A cute idea occurs to him, then. "Hey, if you're really thankful, can I call you by your first name?"

Liu sighs like she expected nothing less than some ridiculous reward. "Greta, not Gretchen," she replies after a moment.

Jon grins. "Got it. You make an amazing chief of police, Greta."

"Flattery gets your ass kicked." She points in the direction of the exit. "Consider yourself lucky I am not wearing heels today." She begins to turn away, only to turn back and say as an afterthought, "Whatever you take from this office becomes your personal responsibility. Are we clear?"

He sheepishly pulls the folder out of his jacket. "I was just borrowing it."

Liu simply dismisses him with a wave of her hand.

Jon finds himself in a much better mood upon leaving than he expected.

* * *

Pike's house looks like a warfront. Jonathan kills the engine to his truck and pockets his keys. Having parked nearly two blocks down the street out of caution, he draws in a breath, forces his shoulders back, and adopts a languid stroll along the sidewalk. The neighbor who had agreed to feed Porthos is peering between the curtains of her living room window. Archer waves to her. The curtains snap shut.

Cameras turn his way as he approaches the house. Reporters raise their microphones but eye him with uncertainty. He had left his work jacket in the truck for a reason. He doesn't want to be recognized as a member of law enforcement. They would pick him apart inside of a minute.

One of the reporters seems brave enough to approach him. "Sir," he begins, "I'm from Channel 9 news. What is your opinion about recent events—"

"I'm just the dog-walker."

The reporter looks like a fish with his mouth hanging open.

"Now if you don't mind, sir..." Jonathan gives the fellow a firm push to the side and slips past him. After bounding up the front stoop, he raps hard on the door.

The individual who opens the front door is granite-faced and visibly armed.

Jon raises his eyebrows. "Hey there."

"Identify yourself."

"Dog-walker." The man automatically steps back and tries to shut the door. Jonathan jams his boot into place to keep the door open and bellows into the depths of the house, "PORTHOS! HERE, BOY!"

The result is a distant bark and the sounds of startled humans. Then Porthos appears at the corner of the door and jumps straight for the back of the agent's legs. The man throws himself sideways out of shock, giving Jon the chance to shoulder the door wide enough to slip through. He swoops into the living room, picking up his dog in the process, and peppers Porthos's face with kisses, praising, "Porthos, what a good boy you are! Yes, you are!"

Porthos squirms happily in his arms.

"Well," says the man sitting on the couch, arms crossed and expression bland, "at least that mutt listens to somebody."

"Porthos is hardly a mutt, and he always listens," Jon rejoins sharply, placing Porthos on the ground again. "But he won't necessarily obey a command unless he thinks it's sensible."

"Like somebody else I know," Leonard McCoy mutters, turning his head, looking at the other person on the opposite end of the couch.

Spock stares back, his expression even blander than McCoy's.

Jon straightens up. "So where's your smarter half?"

"Jim's in the kitchen."

"I meant Uhura."

Leonard looks insulted. "Jim is just as smart as—"

Spock interjects, "Nyota has a distaste for authority. An hour ago, a relative in the area escorted her home."

Jon can't decide if there are hidden messages in that explanation or not.

"She promised to come back in the morning with breakfast," Leonard adds, then scowls without warning. "Can you get into that kitchen? Apparently only _blood_ relatives of the victim are authorized to take part in briefings. I told those fools if that was their twisted logic, then technically Jim should be out here with us."

Spock sighs through his nose. "Mr. McCoy's insensitive remark stems from his concern that Jim has not yet been allowed to rest."

"I'll take care of it," Jon promises. However, as he tries to cross the living room, the agent on guard duty over McCoy and Spock, steps in his path with one hand resting on the butt of his holstered gun.

Jon pulls his badge out of his back pocket and flips it open. "Cool your jets, junior. I'm legit."

"He's a sheriff. He outranks you!" Leonard calls helpfully from the couch.

"Thanks, Sourpatch." Jonathan steps around the now confused-looking agent and veers briefly towards the dining room to wave at Liu's officers who are monitoring the telephone setup before he pushes through to the kitchen.

Agent Gaius ceases some mid-conversation remark upon Archer's arrival and frowns. "Sheriff Archer. How... unexpected."

"Evening, folks. I see we acquired some more backup." Jon steps up to the chair belonging to Kirk, who just stares up at him in unusual silence, and drops a hand to the young man's shoulder, alternating his gaze between the standing Gaius and Marcus. Jon doesn't like the atmosphere of the kitchen. The men's postures and how they have positioned themselves opposite of Kirk reeks too much of an interrogation.

Gaius purses his mouth. "With Agent Robbins elsewhere, I certainly could not secure the location on my own. The state office has graciously provided assistance."

"I thought you were staying behind," Marcus growls almost accusingly.

Jon has no inclination to be anything other than blunt. "I'm not here to interfere. Knew it was time I called in for the night." His hand tightens briefly on Jim's shoulder. "Actually, this young man needs sleep more than I do." He pins a hard stare on Gaius. "Jim has not fully recovered from serious injuries he sustained a few weeks ago. You shouldn't place too much pressure on a man who is unwell."

Marcus's mouth flattens at the subtle rebuke.

"I... see," Gaius responds, adopting a politer tone. "In any case, we were nearly through with our discussion with Mr. Kirk."

Jon slides his hand down to Jim's arm and gives it a light tug. "Then whatever else you fellas have to say can wait until morning. C'mon, kiddo." He looks Jim over as the man comes to his feet. "Did they feed you?"

Jim nods. The circles under his eyes seem to have grown twice in size in only a couple of hours. How could these bastards not see how exhausted Jim is?

Nobody stops Jon from leading his charge into the living room, although Marcus does follow closely behind them.

Leonard jumps away from the couch. "Jim!"

Spock stands as well.

Jim gives the pair a tired smile. "Guess you guys were bored without me."

Leonard takes Jim's hand, pulling him away from Archer. "Spock and I should be the least of your worries. We're going to bed now. No arguing."

"All three of us?" Jim asks, looking between Spock and McCoy.

Leonard's face gains a pinched look but he says nothing in contradiction, just tugs Kirk in the direction of the bedrooms. Spock momentarily lingers behind as if uncertain of his next action before inevitably trailing in their wake.

Jon tucks his hands into his pants pockets and glances pointedly at Marcus. "Speaking of late hours, isn't your family missing you?"

"My wife knows about Pike. My daughter—" Marcus's voice dies out suddenly and comes back flatter. "She isn't at home anymore so I suppose my answer would be no."

Jon can't think of anything to say to that.

Marcus grabs a jacket from the coat rack by the front door and dons it wordlessly. Jon turns away, glad the man has finally taken the hint about leaving them the hell alone for a while.

But before he shuts the front door, Marcus makes a point of saying to Jon, "Tell Jim I will return in the morning."

Jon just tips an imaginary hat at the man. When the door closes, Jon sags in place and rubs a hand wearily over his face.

None of the other officers milling about the house appear eager to speak to him, which suits Jonathan fine. He strides for his and Chris's bedroom at the back of the house. McCoy comes out of Jim's bedroom just in time to catch him in the hallway.

"Kirk?" he asks.

"Taking a shower." Leonard leans his weight against Jim's closed bedroom door. "We're gonna have a problem."

"Yeah, I would say so. You can't fit three people in that tiny bed in there."

Something flashes through McCoy's eyes. "Spock isn't staying."

Jonathan considers that. "By his choice or yours?"

"I didn't have to say anything. Shockingly, he has a shred of common decency."

"Leonard," Jon chastises lightly, "Spock's got more than a shred, and you know it."

McCoy lowers his gaze. "Yeah. Problem is I'm afraid of what else he might have... for Jim."

"Well you'll have to tackle that some other time. Your boyfriend has enough going on right now, don't you agree? He needs you to prop up his insecurities, not the other way around." And why, oh why, is McCoy confessing something like this to Jon anyway?

McCoy stays silent for a moment before huffing, "I figured you would say that."

"I refuse to give you permission to punch Spock."

"Too late, I already tried that. Didn't make me feel better."

Jon rubs the bridge of his nose. How does Chris deal with this sort of thing? "Look, let Spock help you help Jim. And you know what? If it backfires spectacularly and Kirk decides to dump you for him, I will personally kick Kirk's scrawny ass and then kick my own ass for giving you such poor advice."

"I'm still not liking the possibility that I could get dumped."

"You _won't_ ," Jon insists, though he is fairly certain he will never convince McCoy of this fact. "But for Jim's sake, take the leap of faith."

Leonard's breath comes out as a noisy gust of air, a sign of his relief. "All right. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Any other headache-inducing conversations you want to have before I go?"

"Actually," the man says, "the problem I mentioned wasn't Spock. It's Jim."

Of course. Jon closes his eyes briefly. "And what about Jim?"

"Unless I drug him, I doubt he will be able to fall sleep."

Jon almost says, _Welcome to the club._ Then he thinks about it. "Didn't you prescribe a sleep aid for Chris?"

"Sure, but I think there might be a better way." McCoy's gaze flicks over to the master bedroom door. "Would it be possible for us to use Pike's room tonight? It'd be... more comforting for him."

For Archer that isn't even a question. "Absolutely. I'll—" Where will he sleep? Not that he had planned to sleep anyway, but he does need privacy to look over Marcus's files that he filched from the precinct. Maybe the laundry room? Surely there would be no federal agents stationed there.

"We'll trade. We take Pike's room, you take Jim's. He won't mind."

"Are we talking about the same person who booby-trapped his bedroom in case I _might_ venture there?"

"Jim disabled those a while back."

"Good to know, but don't worry yourself about it." Jon amends, "I mean, tell Spock he can stay and sleep there." He rubs a hand across the back of his neck. "To be honest, I didn't want to upset Kirk by telling him that I have to work from the station tomorrow. Heading out there now would probably be a smart thing to do."

Oddly, at hearing this, Leonard looks worried.

Jon winces. "I know. I'm disappointing."

"No, Jim won't be disappointed—but he will be concerned."

Jon's eyebrows fly up. "Excuse me, did you say _concerned_? Who, now?"

McCoy rolls his eyes ceiling-ward in an unspoken lament of _why am I surrounded by idiots?_ "Jim, concerned about _you._ "

"Bullshit," Jon says.

"Here's my advice to you: stop believing that Jim doesn't have a stake in your welfare," Leonard snaps back, surprising Jon even further. "You matter, okay? So don't do something stupid like get yourself killed by playing the lone hero. If you think Jim is at his breaking point now with his father missing, then losing you too _will_ push him over the edge." McCoy shakes his head. "And God help us all if that happens."

Jon backs up to put distance between them, bringing his hands to his head like that might keep it from imploding. He has heard wrong or must be hallucinating. There is no way on this earth that Jim Kirk would be on the brink of insanity if something happens to _him_. That kid would be the first person to say good riddance!

"I'm... gonna go now," he decides. "I need sleep." What Jon needs is to get away from this unexpected emotional quagmire. And to find a reality check, pronto. With Pike gone, the whole world has somehow tilted off its axis. People think he cares about Jim. They think Jim cares about him. There is even talk about a sense of _family_ developing between them.

Yes, Jon needs that reality check badly. He needs Pike. Because if there is any truth to what he has been hearing, Chris could help him understand how he can possibly be worth any of this, for Jon has always believed that men like him don't have families.

 _If men like you don't have families_ , a little voice argues in the back of Jon's head, _then why did you jump at the chance to pursue Chris after decades of separation?_

"Jonathan?" Leonard asks in concern. "Are you all right?"

Jon drops his hands and pastes a game smile on his face. "You take the room," he reiterates. "Tell Kirk goodnight for me, and I'll be in touch tomorrow."

Leonard seems to accept this answer that isn't really answer to his question. "Thanks again."

Jonathan nods without replying and backs down the hall until his heels hit the carpet of the living room. Then he turns around and heads determinedly for the front door.

"Leaving so soon, Sheriff?" Gaius calls from his perch on the armrest of Pike's favorite recliner.

"Yeah," Jon replies without humor, "duty calls."

He is tugging on the doorknob when Gaius pipes up a second time, wanting to know, "When shall we see you again?"

That seems like an innocuous question but Archer knows better. Gaius is warning him off what he perceives to be his territory—that is, Kirk and this case.

Jon cocks his head at the federal agent, saying flippantly in return, "Might not want to sit in that chair. The dog likes to fart there."

Gaius hops away from the recliner as if it had burned him.

Smirking, Jonathan shuts the door firmly behind him on his way out.

* * *

Three cups of coffee and an hour later, Archer is on the prowl in the downtown of his home city. Wearing sunglasses to sneak around in the dark is not the smartest idea but it makes him look cool as he approaches a parked vehicle half-hidden in an otherwise empty corner lot. Jon hunkers down once he is within reach of the tail-lights and scuttles sideways to slink along a row of bushes in hopes his shadow stays well-blended with other more stationary shadows. Then, in a last surreptitious slide towards the driver-side window, he prepares for his surprise attack.

The car window rolls down at the last second, and a voice can be heard from the interior saying, " _Vat is he doing?_ "

Hikaru Sulu pokes his head outside the car. "Hello there."

Jonathan snaps upright beside the bushes and tears off his sunglasses. "How the hell did you see me?"

Sulu doesn't deign to answer that, instead pointing a thumb at the backseat. "Get in."

Mission sadly aborted (or destroyed, depending on how one views it), Jonathan jerks open the car door. "Damn, it's tiny in here," he complains once inside. He has to hunch over the front seats to keep his head from knocking into the roof, which gives him a chance to notice all the food wrappings littering the car's floorboards. Talk about a junk mobile.

"Hello," Pavel Chekov says cheerily, unearthing a hand from beneath a mound of burrito wrappers in his lap and offering it to Archer. "We meet again, Sheriff."

Jon doesn't dare touch that hand, certain it is unclean. "Yeah, hi there." To Sulu, he says, "This guy desperately needs a napkin."

Wordlessly Sulu picks a crumpled napkin off the dashboard and hands it to Chekov while his alert gaze never strays from what appears beyond the windshield. The car, as Jonathan had noted upon his arrival, is positioned for a perfect view of the station house's back parking lot exit.

"So," he says into a weird lapse of silence, "performing a little recon mission, are we?"

"We planted the bug," Chekov explains, "and now we are waiting."

"Bug?" Jon repeats sharply. "What bug?"

"Pavel doesn't mean that literally," Sulu clarifies. "You're late, by the way."

Jonathan stares at the side of Sulu's head. "You were expecting me?"

"As soon as the deputy in charge called you." Sulu's eyes are still focused on the brightly lit Sheriff's Department. "Kirk told you our plan."

Not all of it, apparently. "I know you are attempting to flush out our resident mole." Jon pauses, thinks on that a little more. "The 'bug' is the news of Pike's kidnapping, isn't it? You want to see who runs off to tell Nero." He drums his fingers along the side of Chekov's headrest. "Have you considered that alerting Nero could be as simple as a phone call?"

Chekov holds up a small, non-descript gadget with a single blinking light and presses a side button on it. Then Sulu turns up on the volume of his car radio and almost immediately Jonathan hears voices as clear as day—those of Larry, Matthews and, more faintly, Jenkins—along with the telltale sounds that come from working in an office, such as paper-shuffling, typing, and a stapler being used. The noises are so amplified that he imagines he can hear the burping of their hallway water cooler.

"That's the real bug," Sulu deadpans, finally glancing at Archer.

"I'm... impressed." And also a little unnerved. How could it be so easy for two amateurs to infiltrate and bug his entire department? Boy, the press would have a heyday if they heard about their poor security. The mayor would fire him.

Sulu lowers the radio's volume until it is a quiet drone in the background. "If it's any consolation to you, I played distraction while Pavel hacked the system. He's really good at that."

Chekov smiles with a sweet innocence that belies his smug claim of "I'm Russian."

Jon slumps into the backseat, figuring it will better for everyone if he doesn't know any more details about how they cuckolded the law. "Anything of interest to report so far?"

"Ze big one comes out to smoke," Pavel says.

Jenkins must have quit using the nicotine patches. Jonathan will have to follow up on that. "What else?"

Sulu sighs, a quiet, contained sound. "Not much, Sheriff."

Jon crosses his arms. "Gentlemen, you've been on this stakeout for only half a day. Frankly it could take a lot longer than this to see the result of your hard work."

Sulu's gaze meets his in the rearview mirror. "If you're suggesting we aren't up to the challenge... we are, sir."

"Because Kirk asked you?"

"Because Jim didn't ask," corrects Kirk's grave-eyed friend, Chekov also nodding in agreement. "He didn't need to."

That, Jon realizes, is an accurate summation of how much they care about Kirk. Jon is glad to know their loyalty runs deep.

"Well," he says, slapping his hands together, "shall I go in and stir the pot for you?"

Pavel cocks his head in curiosity. "Vat pot will you stir?"

Sulu reaches over to pat his companion's leg. To Archer, he says, "Go for it."

Jon plucks his sunglasses out of his pocket and puts them on again. "Roger that, Mighty Mouse."

The look Sulu shoots him is not amused.

Jonathan hurriedly exits the car—and trips over the sidewalk that he can barely see. Embarrassed, he removes the sunglasses and hangs them from the collar of his undershirt. In a last backward glance to the car, he sees the shadowed movements of Chekov tearing at a food wrapper with his teeth and Sulu settling his chin against his forearms draped over the steering wheel.

A strange fondness swells in Archer.

He guesses he won't have trouble suffering from a self-imposed memory lapse later on regarding all of the 'slightly illegal' activities these kids have accomplished thus far. Did Jim expect that when he accepted the tentative truce and the offer to work together?

"You've become soft," Jon tells himself with a shake of his head. At one time, that statement might have been an accusation; tonight, it is not.

He climbs into his truck situated on an adjacent street and cranks the engine. Amused, he thinks of just how surprised his team will be to discover that their boss has returned. Then that amusement fades.

At least one of his deputies will not be grateful. One of them will try to find out what he knows about Pike's kidnapping and use that information for nefarious reasons.

In other words, Jon is the perfect bait to catch the mole. That, it dawns on him, is why Sulu and Chekov had been waiting for his appearance. They need him for their plan to work as much as he needs them.

He pulls his truck into the Sheriff's Department parking lot with a calm expression and a heavy heart. Someone will pay a price tonight for betrayal. Jon has the unfortunate feeling that someone will be him.

* * *

Pike blames his emotional distress more than his physical exhaustion as the culprit for causing him to fall asleep. To his surprise, though, nothing untoward occurs in the interim of his unconsciousness. He wakes up on a couch in an unusually posh and oversized living room. A house maid takes one look at his startled face and rolls in a food cart filled with various edible delights.

As Pike is trying to work out how he went from a dark hovel in an abandoned building (more to the point, from a van headed to that hovel) to a mansion of some sort, Kor strolls into the room dressed in a house robe, quite bright-eyed.

"Okay," Chris decides, "I must be out of my mind."

"Hardly," Kor counters. "You expected I lived in poverty, yes? But you will agree that an amoral man can have the same standards as one who is moral."

"Yes," Chris says in a dry tone, "I see my mistake now."

"Enjoy your breakfast," Kor replies dismissively, taking a seat on another couch.

Since they didn't poison him with the water last night, they won't have much reason to poison him now. Chris eats.

Later, after the maid rolls the cart away again, Kor smiles at Pike. As if on cue, men come through the closest archway; their clothing, at least, has not changed. Pike is mostly greeted by familiar faces. He does not see Marcus among any of them.

Laughing aloud, Kor says something to the new arrivals. Some of them take seats along Chris's couch; others take wide-legged stances throughout the room.

"It is time," Kor says suddenly. He picks up a remote off a coffee table and activates a television at the end of the room. All attention—including Pike's—turns in that direction. Kor then cranks up the volume on the television before settling on a channel he had in mind.

For a few minutes, as ads flicker past on the screen, Chris is confused that Kor wants to spend his time watching television instead of taunting his captive. Then the morning news appears, and the hastily eaten breakfast churns in Chris's stomach as he comprehends Kor's motive. Helpless to do little else but lean forward, he drinks in the sight of his son standing on the stoop of their house. The bold words at the bottom of the screen proclaim the recording as live.

Chris finds himself unable to draw air into his lungs. Jim looks _awful._

He swallows, plants an elbow on his knee and brings his hand up to lay fingers across his mouth. On any other occasion the action may seem like one of concentration but the fine tremor running through Chris's hand belies the fact that he is attempting to disguise his anguish.

There is no denying gut reaction. All the comfort and care that had been given to his boy since the hospital stay has been undone. Chris sees too clearly the despondent line of his son's shoulders, an invisible burden weighing them down. Jim's hair, no doubt futilely combed by someone before the conference started, indicates a restless night in bed. And the circles under Jim's eyes, the fragile way he cups his elbows, pain in his voice...

Finally, the world around Chris stops fuzzing out and he is able to hear the words his son has been speaking all along: " _...let him go. Please. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you if you just let my dad come home._ "

Kor's mouth curves maliciously. "Do you hear your child, Detective? He promises to give us anything we want for your safe return."

 _No, Jim, no_ is all Chris can think. _Don't beg. Don't promise._

A reporter is speaking now, holding out a microphone to Kirk, wanting to know if he has any idea who could be behind his father's kidnapping. The shadow that moves to Jim's right coalesces into Alexander Marcus, who pushes to the center of the makeshift podium and politely declines any further questions.

Chris comes out of his seat without realizing it, only able to seethe inarticulately at the television screen.

Marcus shares an official statement from the precinct on the investigation.

 _I should have killed him._ The words pound in Pike's head. _I should have taken him down when I had the chance._

Statement given, Marcus turns to Jim and wraps a comforting arm around the young man's shoulders. He gives the cameras a sad smile before leading a dejected-looking Jim back into the house.

A word explodes from Chris. "Bastard!"

He drops back into his chair, chest heaving, arms shaking with fury. It takes some time for Chris to realize that Kor and his men had fallen silent during his outburst. Now they are simply watching him speculatively, no doubt waiting to see what he might do next.

Chris rakes a hand through his hair, staring at without really seeing the reporter of the television channel as she gives her final thoughts on the kidnapping of a local detective. Anything she might have to say is meaningless to him.

Jim is in danger. Jim has no idea what a snake Alex is. How easy will it be for Marcus to use Jim's ignorance to his advantage? To manipulate the outcome of this horrendous game?

And why hadn't Chris had these thoughts before now? Is he so stupid that he automatically assumed Marcus would not consider Chris's son a threat so long as Chris followed their plan?

Who could protect Jim if Marcus made Jim the next target?

Pike snaps upright, then, chin lifting, eyes widening.

The group giving the press conference had been sparse: Liu, barely visible off to the side, Jim and Marcus in the center, another man to Marcus's right, a FBI agent by all appearances. Through the front door that had sat slightly ajar, he now thinks he had seen a glimpse of a man that could be McCoy.

But no one else.

Where was Jonathan? Why hadn't it been _Archer_ standing beside Jim, supporting Jim?

Cold seeps through Chris, numbs him.

Could it be that Jon had left Jim behind?

Kor's voice cuts through his thoughts. "You look like a man with much to consider."

Chris says nothing.

Kor continues on, "You look like a man with less hope."

He meets Kor's gaze.

"You look like a man," Kor concludes, "who realizes he cannot protect his loved ones in his current predicament."

"Why do you say that?" Chris questions sharply.

"Because it is true. Everything you have, your Lieutenant will take from you."

"Did Marcus tell you that?"

"Alexander is a cold man," Kor says. "Colder, I think, than I am. Should I provide you with an example?"

Kor's men are now watching Kor as intently as Pike is. Kor clearly enjoys their attention.

But the proclamation is no less chilling for all Kor's dramatics: "Why did our Brother Koloth die? Who betrayed him?" Kor looks straight to Pike, upper lip curling. "The answer lies with Brother _Marcus_. He betrayed Koloth and all Koloth's kindness to gain favor with an enemy and that," Kor states, "is why we must pay the betrayer in kind."

Chris wouldn't believe Kor except for the slightly mad glint to his eyes. Kor believes what he is saying. Kor's men don't speak but it is clear they do believe him.

"We're working with Marcus to destroy Nero," Chris points out.

"Did I not tell you that plans can change, Detective?"

He asks, already cautious of the answer, "And how do you want to change it this time?"

Kor leans forward with a growing smile. "I want you to kill your old friend. In return, I shall kill Nero for you. A fair trade, I believe, to our mutual benefit."

It doesn't strike Chris at all odd when he agrees without a qualm, "I can live with that arrangement, Kor."

Kor eases back. "Good. You will discover that I keep my promises. It is a matter of honor."

"Honor," Chris murmurs. Does that word have meaning for him anymore? He doesn't know.

"A nice house like this," he says suddenly to his captor, "should have a nice bar. I could use a drink."

Kor nods appreciatively and rises from his couch. He calls to his fellows, "Then let us drink together!"

Chris goes with them.


	8. Part Eight

**Part Eight**

"Boss."

That faint echo sounds important. Jon could listen to it but...

" _Boss!_ "

The slamming next to Archer's head more than the shout of his name wakes him up. "What the—oh hell, Larry," he gripes as the bleary image of the deputy standing on the opposite side of his desk comes into focus, "you almost gave me a heart attack!"

"Got tired of calling you," Larry replies, plainly unrepentant. He gestures at the stack of manila folders that had been the cause of the slamming noise in Archer's eardrums. "I know you ain't slept in a while, but work needs doing. At least start on the backlog while you're here."

Jonathan sets his elbows down on his desk and cradles his head. "How long was I out?"

Larry glances at the clock. "Couple of hours." He studies Archer's face. "You look better but still like shit."

"You know how to charm a fellow."

"It is what it is."

"That's for sure," Archer mutters. "Who's still here?"

"I sent a couple of the rookies out on highway patrol. They don't know yet to mind the long hours. Jenkins fell asleep halfway through his midnight snack again so I sent him home to his wife. Matthews and I are running the desk."

Jon sits up, feeling the burden he had been oblivious to while asleep settle on his shoulders again. Did his return to the station set anything in motion? Only time will tell. To be honest, he barely remembers what he said and did when he came in hours ago. He recalls his team being surprised to see him—and even more surprised, perhaps, to hear him complain aloud of the lack of leads on Pike's disappearance and criticize Liu's handling of the investigation. He was supposed to pretend to seclude himself in his office while keeping tabs on his men. Instead, at some point, he passed out.

Shit, he thinks, reaching for his phone. Has he botched things up? Did either of Kirk's friends try to contact him meanwhile? He asks, "What time is it?"

At Larry's answer, Jon drops his cell phone back to his desk and jumps up. "Nine? _Fuck!_ " The press conference!

Shoving through the cluttered office, Archer grabs his discarded hat and jacket on the way, snapping as he goes, "Why the hell didn't you wake me sooner?"

Larry looks more tired than usual. "By the time I remembered you wanted to be there, there was no way you would've made it on time." He says as Jon angrily pushes past him, "Kirk's on the set now."

Jonathan freezes just outside his office doorway; despite the distracting clang of mental alarm bells, of the agonizing thought _you screwed up, Archer, the kid'll never forgive you_ , he changes his direction to the department's canteen. There he finds Matthews already seated at the table, eyes fixed on a small television screen. Without a word, Matthews lifts the remote control at Archer's approach and raises the volume. On the screen, Jim looks far worse than Jon does.

Larry appears and pulls out an empty chair, pushing Jon into it. None of the men speak until the conference is over, and the news channel reporter has taken center stage to recap what is known about the potential kidnapping for one of the city's most beloved police officers.

Matthews murmurs, "Poor Kirk."

Jon looks to his deputy. "I thought you hated him."

"I can hate a guy and still feel bad for him. Besides," the younger man argues, "I wouldn't hate Kirk so much if he didn't push my buttons every time I arrested him."

Archer's mouth twitches in amusement. "That's because you're arresting him. And you've only ever booked Jim twice."

"He's a dick."

"No argument from this corner."

"So," Larry cuts in, "do you think putting the vic's family on TV will do any good?"

Jon sighs and massages the bridge of his nose. "It rarely does."

Larry leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Speaking of dicks, that FBI agent looks like trouble."

"His name's Gaius," Jon supplies.

Matthews snorts. "Agent _Gaius?_ Jesus, it sounds like he belongs on a magic show."

"Well," muses Jon, "he's definitely hell-bent on having a dog-and-pony show here." Same goes for Lt. Marcus, but Jon sees no point in adding that. His thoughts return to Sulu and Chekov's mission last night. "I need to make a call."

Leaving his deputies behind, Jonathan returns to his office after patting his pockets and realizing his cell phone is still on his desk. Just as he retrieves it, his office phone rings, and Jon answers it out of habit. "Archer here."

"This is Liu."

"Captain," he says, feeling his heart lodge in his throat at her tone of voice, "what can I do for you?" Is she going to ream him out for missing the press conference? Had she even wanted him to be there? He honestly doesn't know.

But Liu only says, "Briefing at one. Don't be late."

Jon is left staring at the phone long after she has hung up. He's being called back in already. _Him_.

Not good, proclaims his intuition.

Replacing the phone in its cradle, he dials Kirk on his cell but the call goes to voicemail. So does a call to McCoy. There isn't a point in trying the house phone since any conversation on that line will be monitored.

 _I'm just sleep-derived_ , Jon decides. Unless Liu gives him a reason to panic, he shouldn't be imagining the worst.

Yet even as Archer settles in his chair and flips open the first manila folder from the stack, his mind is against him.

When he leaves the Sheriff's Department two hours later, his gaze tracks to the parking lot across the street. Sulu and Chekov's stakeout must be over, for their car is gone from the corner. He runs his thumb along the cover of his cell phone in his pocket and decides that no word from them—or Kirk—is a mystery that must wait until after Liu's briefing.

* * *

Jon arrives at the police station at the same time as a delivery guy struggling to unload four large bags. Phil cheers as he hurries into the reception area, "You're here!"

Jon's mood, which had darkened over the course of the drive between the counties, brightens. "Yeah, I made it."

Phil pauses long enough to blink in his direction. "Oh, Sheriff Archer. Hello there. Sorry, I was talking to him." He indicates the delivery guy. "Not that it isn't nice to see you, but we're on the verge of starvation here." He cautions with a touch of humor, "Don't approach the Captain until she's had at least half her sandwich."

Jon looks into one of the bags. It hadn't occurred to him to pick up food on his way down. "I don't suppose you ordered extra?"

"Actually," Phil tells him, "I think Robbins ordered for you."

"Think I could hug her without getting punched?"

"Nope." Phil hands two bags to Archer after he signs a credit card slip.

As Jon follows the man into the bullpen, heads turn in their direction or pop out of doorways with the voraciousness of hungry wolves scenting an easy kill. He and Phil don't make it into the break room before people start crowding the doorway, waiting not so patiently to get at their lunch.

Archer hears the snarl of " _Move_."

Phil is ready and waiting when his captain breaks into the front of the crowd; he hands her a wrapped sandwich and a bag of chips. The crowd parts again to let Liu out, then they come through the door.

Jon is smart enough to stick his hands in his pockets and stand aside as a line forms. "Is it always like this?" he wants to know when the last person has walked out the break room, already biting into his sandwich.

"Usually we're more civil," Phil says, "but it's been a stressful couple of days."

Jon understands all too well. "The pressure of the case really gets to you sometimes. Kidnappings and hostage situations—they're the worst."

Phil glances sidelong at him. "We can handle the worst, but it's less easy to handle it being one of our own."

"You mean everyone's like this because it's Chris."

"Yes," Phil answers simply and hands Jon the last two sandwiches.

The door to the break room swings open.

"Archer," Agent Robbins says upon entering, "come with me." She takes one of the sandwiches from his hand and walks out again.

Jon thanks Phil and catches up to her. Together they enter the conference room set up for the briefings. A large board has been recently brought in but it faces the wall. A few other people, including Officer Moreau, are already seated at the long oblong table. They are eating quietly.

Robbins takes a seat on one end and nudges the chair next to her in a silent command. Jonathan sits down. The subdued atmosphere of the room gives him goosebumps. Robbins unwraps her sandwich, takes a bite, and turns to her laptop.

"Maybe you can give me a heads-up," he murmurs to her.

"The Cyberteam had a breakthrough with some of the evidence. That's all I know."

Archer glances in Moreau's direction. As if sensing his interest, she raises her head to meet his gaze, but the moment is brief and her head turns away again.

Jon's stomach cramps, not from the lack of food but from a bad feeling. Managing to eat only half his sandwich, he offers the rest to anyone who wants it but at the lack of response pitches the remnants into the nearest trashcan.

Thirty minutes later Liu arrives with Marcus on her heels. She shuts the door and gives all of them a long, assessing look. "This is a priority one briefing. If you're in this room, I've given you the clearance to be privy to an extremely sensitive development in our case. You will not repeat what you hear to anyone but those present."

Robbins had closed her laptop at Liu's appearance. Now she rests her hand on top of its lid, interlocking her fingers. Jon notices how she surreptitiously rubs her thumb against the underside of her palm. What could possibly make Robbins nervous?

Well, the only way for Archer to hide his unease is with false bravado. He raises his voice to carry. "Don't keep us in suspense, Captain. What development?"

Liu nods to Moreau. The officer rises from the table and heads for the investigation board while Marcus drifts to the back of the room to lean against a wall as if he's no more than a bystander in the proceedings.

Marlena begins as she turns the board around, "At approximately seventy-thirty yesterday evening, we were alerted to activity in one of Detective Pike's bank accounts." She points to a grainy photograph at the edge of the board. "The withdrawal of cash was traced to this ATM and individual."

Jon half-rises out of his chair. He hears Robbins's sharp intake of breath. The man in the photograph has a face hidden behind sunglasses and the low brim of a baseball cap, but the set of his shoulders is quite familiar.

Moreau's finger traces an invisible path from photograph to photograph on the board, all captioned with a date, time, and location. "During the next hour, the same individual was captured at other ATMs within a ten-mile radius, each time making the maximum cash withdrawal." Her gaze turns on her audience. "As you can see, the original quality from the cams isn't good but we used a program to clean up each image as best we could." Nodding to one of her team, Moreau directs their attention to the projector screen at the front of the room. "DeSalle will show you the results."

A computer desktop comes on screen. When DeSalle opens the first re-touched photograph, dead silence takes a hold of the room. As the last image becomes visible, Liu voices what they are all thinking: "As of last night, this confirms that Detective Pike was alive and well. Moreau."

Marlena continues, "We accessed the traffic cams operating around each location to track Pike's movement. This is a short video clip from one of those cameras." As DeSalle plays the video, Jon ends up gripping the edge of the table. "We were able to capture his rough trajectory, but as you can see no one appears to be following him from either direction."

Robbins breaks in, "Given the limited range of the traffic cam, that statement is hardly conclusive."

"More to the point," Jon elaborates, "we shouldn't discount the possibility of an unseen threat. Whatever prompted Pike to make these trips won't be answered by a fifteen-second video. The real question is: how did he move between ATMs?"

"We're still investigating the method of transportation. Unfortunately that requires us to pull the footage for every adjacent street and review it. So far there's no correlation."

"He couldn't have gone to all those ATMs on foot, and he sure as hell didn't fly!"

"Archer," Liu says in warning. Then, "At this time, what's relevant is that Pike nearly emptied his checking account, used circuitous routes to move about and purposely dressed to avoid detection." She finishes by saying what Jonathan fears to hear, "It doesn't paint the cleanest picture for a victim of a kidnapping."

Marcus shifts from his place against the wall, a subtle movement that nonetheless draws the attention of the room. "Captain, I have something to add."

"Proceed, Lieutenant."

Marcus's gaze drifts around the table. "What I have to say might disturb you. On the day Pike went missing, you've heard that we had lunch together. He spoke to me in confidence as a friend, and while I believed much of that conversation to be passing remarks, I now suspect there may be a connection to this investigation." Marcus's tone changes to reflect concern and a hint of resignation. "We talked mainly about his son's recovery. Chris was very open about the animosity he felt towards the perps who attacked Jim. He hinted that he wouldn't dismiss an opportunity to—" He draws a breath. "—eliminate them. To quote him, 'I know what I would do if I found those bastards.'"

Jon is surprised he hasn't cracked the edge of the table with his grip. Robbins glances at him, her mouth thinning to an unhappy line.

Liu crosses her arms over her chest. She sounds only mildly interested by this revelation. "What is your point?"

Marcus gestures at the clearer images of Pike. "Have you considered that he's acting on his own?"

"Vigilantism?" Marlena questions in a sharp tone.

"It would be hard for most of you to understand how strong the temptation is," replies Marcus, which for some reason causes almost everyone in the room to avoid his gaze. "I do."

Jon comes out of his chair because he simply can't abide Marcus's suggestion. "You're kidding me right now, aren't you? Do you honestly think Pike instigated a full-scale search-and-rescue operation because he couldn't control an urge to shoot some bad guys? I've known that man over twenty years! No way in hell."

Marcus accepts this outburst without much reaction. "The evidence speaks for itself."

Jon slams his hands down on the table. "There is no evidence!"

Robbins wraps a hand around one of his arms. "Sit down, Sheriff."

He shakes her grip off because Marcus's bland expression is really starting to needle him. "Those pictures are _shit_ , and you know it. So is a conversation that can't be supported by witnesses."

A muscle jumps in Marcus's jaw. "Archer, are you calling me a liar?"

"If the shoe fits."

"Gentlemen," Liu interrupts, her voice hard, "I'll remind you that you're on duty."

Jonathan faces her. "If you called me here to tell me that Pike's alive, great. If you want me to figure out where he went with all that money, even better. But don't waste my time by turning your most decorated officer into a criminal because it's _convenient_."

Liu's look has her subordinates shifting uncomfortably in their chairs. "Insult me one more time, Sheriff, and I promise you you won't be spending _any_ time in this precinct unless it's under lock and key."

Jonathan decides she isn't bluffing, so when Robbins once again tells him to sit down, he does. He stares at the table for a moment before returning his gaze to Marcus just in time to see a flash across the man's face that looks a lot like hatred. Marcus catches him looking and stares back.

Liu claims their attention again. "This is a potential game changer. I am not fully convinced we're still dealing with a kidnapping, but nor will I condemn anyone without sufficient evidence. My main concern for now is that we work this new angle _without_ alerting the press or unnecessarily alarming the victim's family. Pike is still MIA, which is all anyone needs to know. I may change some your assignments. You will be notified shortly if I do. Dismissed."

Jon is going to force a change in assignment for himself. With Pike having been sighted, there's nothing else he needs to be doing except sticking to that trail. If he has to, he will even give up on his personal investigation into Marcus's connection to the case.

At Liu's dismissal, the other officers collect their notepads, pack their equipment, and begin to exit the room but like Jon, Marcus clearly has something on his mind to delay his leave-taking. He approaches the end of the table. "Captain, if we uncover more evidence to implicate Pike, what then?"

Liu stares at Marcus. "An officer breaking the law is no different than a civilian."

"Even when it's Chris?"

"Even when it's you," she replies.

Marcus's nostrils flare. "I'm not concerned about myself, Liu."

Robbins comes to her feet unexpectedly. "Alex, that's enough."

Marcus's gaze slides to the agent. "I know you're thinking it too. We won't be able to prosecute Pike and protect his family at the same time."

Jon doesn't like this turn of conversation. "What does that mean?"

"Pike's kid could be a problem. We've made allowances for him in the past because Pike was holding the leash. Who's going to handle him if the worse happens? Keep _him_ from breaking the law?"

Jon can't explain it but his temper positively boils over. "I don't know why you're bringing Kirk into this, Marcus, but here's a reality check for you: if you put Pike in handcuffs, that kid will prove his innocence so fast it will make your head spin and leave the rest of you looking like a bunch of jackasses. If it comes to that, I'll help him do it!"

Marcus slaps back, "Then you can be the one to tell him about his old man."

" _Tell me what?_ "

That clipped voice is one Jon recognizes instantly; yet it feels like he shouldn't because it has never before commanded such attention in a way that makes others want to fall in line and obey. He twists around his chair with both surprise and dread to face the man framed in the open doorway of the conference room.

Jim Kirk comes a few steps closer, flanked by McCoy on his right side and Spock on his left. "Tell me what?" Jim repeats, staring directly at Marcus.

Marcus, the fool, just looks pityingly at Kirk. Waving a hand to the evidence board, he says, "See for yourself."

"Lieutenant!" Liu snaps, for this is a direct violation of her orders. When Kirk angles his way across the room, she intercedes, only to have Spock in turn block her path. "Jim, step out."

Pike's son ignores her, stopping far enough from the board that everything would be legible: the photos, pinned map, dates and times. There is a tense silence while Kirk studies the information. Jon has no doubt that he can accurately piece together this new development on his own.

Liu looks resigned. "Mr. Kirk, you and your friends are not allowed to interrupt these meetings at your leisure. I won't ask again. Leave now."

Jon expects Jim to turn on Liu and do or say something to force her to arrest him. Instead, Kirk turns to him and wants to know, sounding unusually calm, "Does this make sense to you?"

Jon answers with the truth. "No."

Jim's nod is the slightest of motions. Then he spins on his heel, remarking, "Spock, Bones. Let's go."

The trio flows out of the room, the officers who had frozen near the doorway pressing aside to get out of their way. At the last second, McCoy's backwards glance finds Jon. Jon can sympathize with the blatant worry there.

Oh well. Time to do damage control.

But Liu makes the request, "Jonathan, stay a minute."

"But Kirk—"

"Jim won't go far," she reasons.

Everyone else leaves the room, including Marcus and Robbins.

When the door is closed again and, Jon suspects, locked, Liu drops into a chair with a weariness she had not shown earlier.

Jon draws a breath. "What is it?"

"You were going for the jugular back there with Marcus. Why?"

He answers seriously, "You don't want to know."

Liu meets his gaze. "You think Alex is planting evidence."

Jon rocks back in his chair. "Planting... Wait a minute. Did you speak to Agent Robbins?"

Liu fixes her gaze on the spot where Marcus had stood. "Una keeps her own council."

"Then why the suspicion of Marcus?"

The captain presses her mouth flat. "Because I know I don't trust him." Her eyes seek Jon's again. "This is strictly between us, Sheriff. I've been building a case against Lt. Marcus to present to Internal Affairs."

"And the charge?" Jon questions quietly.

"Corruption, among other things."

Jon needs a minute to consider that. "Taking bribes?"

"I am afraid it may be more serious." The captain taps a finger against the table. "Regardless of my suspicions, I'm telling you this because I need your cooperation as much as I need your discretion. If Marcus is involved in any way in this investigation, of course we must uncover how but with caution. He thinks he can sway the outcome, that much is clear. I'm willing to give him enough rope to hang himself."

"Hold on," Jon says, lifting a hand, "are you saying you _don't_ believe Chris has set this up?"

"Archer," Liu chides, clearly annoyed, "you should know better." Then she pauses, cocks her head. "Maybe you don't."

"Huh?"

"I see Una has left out some relevant information." Her amused tone kind of frightens Jon. "I accepted the captaincy here in part due to her request. When Una heard her former captain was retiring, she contacted me about the opening. After some convincing and due diligence on my part, I agreed it would be a good fit. The rest, as they say, is history."

"Pike was up for the promotion. Did she tell you that?"

"It's because Pike turned it down that Robbins called me. Marcus was the next choice for Captain unless someone better came along. That possibility concerned her. Concerns about Lt. Marcus," the woman adds, "that I now share."

"While I find this history lesson to be very interesting, I'm still confused. What does that have to do with Pike?"

Liu laughs. "Dearest, I thought it was obvious. Christopher is under my protection."

Jon can only stare at her.

She clarifies, "Protection from Marcus and any other unsavory individuals who think to undermine your valiant Pike. Robbins knew I was up to the task, and in return she promised he would bring me plenty of wins. As I am quite ambitious myself, I need that prestige to advance my career. And, really, it's no hardship to support an outstanding talent like Chris's."

"He... doesn't know this," Jon sputters because, holy crap, how would Pike ever guess that his well-being was being safe-guarded by two crafty women?

"And you will never tell him," Liu says pointedly.

"Ma'am," Jon assures her, "my lips are sealed." _How do I get in on this club?_ That is what Jon is really wondering.

"We can address any particular questions you have at a later date. For now," Liu reminds him, "I think you need to focus on Chris's son."

Oh right, Jim. Jon abandons his chair to take up this new mission, although he does take the time to turn back at the door and say, "Thank you for trusting me, Greta."

"You're welcome. And, Archer? Don't disappoint me."

He plans not to.

* * *

For such a busy place, people tend to disappear in the precinct quickly. Jonathan is on the hunt for any familiar (and friendly) face that can point him in the direction of Kirk and his posse. No one claims to have seen them until Jonathan locates Phil.

"Try the bathroom," Phil suggests.

"Why there?"

Phil just sighs, leaving Jonathan to hurry uncertainly towards the nearest men's restroom. There he finds two promising leads along the empty corridor in front of the closed restroom door. However a rather loud, reverberating " _Damn you!_ " slows Jonathan's initial approach, and self-preservation prompts him to linger around the corner of the corridor to observe rather than interrupt what appears to be a heated argument between Spock and McCoy.

Leonard grabs Spock, who is staring elsewhere in his customary stoic manner, and spins the man around to face him. Though Leonard is the one holding Spock by the shoulders like he intends to shake the frustration out through Spock, Spock is the one who presses forward suddenly to loom over McCoy.

"You will release me," Spock insists.

"Not before I've had my say." Leonard's voice turns fiery. "What the hell is wrong with you? Jim's in a bad place right now, and you're _not helping_. My god, man, we may disagree on plenty of things but I thought you knew when to be the voice of reason!"

"On the contrary, Mr. McCoy, I believe it is your reluctance to act that has jeopardized our situation."

"We're not the police, Spock! Let them do their jobs!"

 _Go Sourpatch!_ Jon cheers mentally.

"These policemen have shown themselves to be inept."

In a different setting, Jon would stuck out his tongue at Spock's back. As it stands, he doesn't want to be seen by either man.

"Not all of them," McCoy argues.

Spock's voice turns scathing. "Have you failed to comprehend what course of investigation the Captain plans to pursue?"

"I think they're wrong too. Mr. Pike isn't some vengeful lunatic. He wouldn't do that to Jim at any rate."

"Then what is the purpose of this conversation?"

"Spock, I'm saying now isn't the time to play follow the leader. I know you're loyal to Jim. God knows you have made that abundantly clear. But exercise some goddamn common sense!"

"Were I to adopt your definition of common sense, I should expect Jim to avoid me at all costs."

A moment of silence ensues before Leonard draws back, removing his hands from Spock, expression pained. "Why would you say that?"

"Can you deny that I have spoken the truth?"

Leonard starts to speak, but falters.

Spock straightens, seeming to realize his rejoinder was too cutting. His voice and expression return to neutral. "If you do not understand, take the matter up with Jim."

"Wait a doggone minute," Leonard says when Spock starts to turn away again, "why would you be pissed at me?"

"I believe I should be the one to pose that question, Mr. McCoy. What drives you to disagree with my showing of support for Jim? Are you simply opposed to the idea of taking action, or to the fact those actions naturally shall include me?"

McCoy pales.

Jon quickly glances behind him, glad no one else is about to walk in on this conversation. A part of him says he shouldn't be eavesdropping but now his curiosity has gotten the better of him. Will Leonard listen to the advice not to turn Spock away? It seems like he is trying his best, but who would have guessed that Spock would be more attuned to McCoy's feelings than McCoy himself?

Spock continues, "As I have been clear in my acceptance of Jim, so have you in your refusal to accept me."

Jon sucks in a breath. _Wow_ , Spock minces no words.

"That—that's—" Leonard's throat works a couple of times around an excuse.

Spock's voice frosts over. "Do not insult me by pretending ignorance."

Leonard protests, "It's not that I object to Jim having friends. I just..." He falters again.

Spock finishes for him, "You cannot approve of a friend when that friend is me."

Leonard's voice breaks as he grabs Spock's arm. "Spock, it's not you. Damn it, why are you making me say this? _I'm_ the problem."

"I had hoped you were aware of that fact."

"Stop being so glib!" Jim's boyfriend explodes. "You don't know how I feel! You and Jim, it's not _normal_ how close you are! Not unless you're—" Leonard suddenly chokes on his own admission.

Anybody could finish that sentence without trying too hard. Jon lays a hand against the wall and sighs.

On the other hand, Spock has simply raised an eyebrow, his look simultaneously intrigued and daring McCoy to continue.

Leonard's face changes colors rapidly, his tan paling then reddening before paling again. "Oh hell."

"Do you admit that you are being irrational?"

"Shut up or I'm gonna punch you."

Spock hardly looks afraid. "You have already done that."

"Because you deserved it!" Leonard snaps.

Spock studies McCoy more intently. "Do you truly believe so?"

Leonard opens his mouth, only to close it again with a perturbed expression. "Yes," he answers at last. "Y'all deserve my anger. Leaving me out was wrong."

"Keeping you in ignorance was the only way to protect you," Spock responds, matter-of-fact. "Jim could not be persuaded otherwise. To him you are as precious as the man he calls his father, if not more so."

Leonard's mouth opens this time and stays open.

The taller man shakes his head ever-so-slightly. "That you are unable to see the depth to which your partner cares for you is... disturbing, when it is quite evident to everyone else. I would attempt to convince you, Mr. McCoy, but it is not my place to do so. However I can inform you that Jim does not understand your refusal to support his efforts to recover his father. From Jim's perspective, there is no alternative. He is only doing what he must. To stand against him is not logical, nor is it likely to have a positive outcome."

Uh-oh, Spock is starting to make sense. Jon doesn't know if he can stay on Team McCoy at this rate.

Leonard seems to be wavering as well. "Then help me support Jim in a way that yields a positive outcome. Help me get through to him. What good is it to Mr. Pike if we get ourselves killed?"

"Unless our objectives coincide, I cannot."

When Spock pivots away, Leonard makes a choked sound. "Spock, what do I have to do? Beg?"

Jon nearly steps around the corner to stop McCoy when he starts to sink to his knees, but Spock is far quicker to react. He catches McCoy by the arms and levers him upright, almost to the point that it looks like Leonard is barely putting weight on his own feet.

And for the first time, Spock appears truly, deeply angry. "You will _never_ beg before me."

"Then tell me," Leonard croaks with undisguised anguish, "how I can convince you."

Jon holds his breath as Spock lifts one of his hands towards the captive man's face, not certain what Spock intends to do. Grab McCoy's chin? Yank his hair?

Oddly, the man only draws his thumb under Leonard's right eye; it comes away wet at the tip. "Your emotional distress is unbecoming."

"Can't help it. Jim means everything to me. I know when I'm beaten, Spock. I need you on my side. Together we stand a chance of keeping him safe. Alone, I'm helpless. I can't do this without you."

"Leonard, I never said I would not help you, given the choice. If you will only cease to fight what is inevitable, then we can strive to find a better solution, one that suits Jim's needs and meets our conditions to ensure his well-being. I assure you, I have no more desire to see Jim act on a reckless impulse than you do."

McCoy seems to deflate. "Well... I guess following Jim into the unknown is better than watching him go alone."

How strange, Jon observes, that Spock isn't showing the typical disinclination for physical contact with McCoy as he normally does with others. Nor does Spock seem inclined to let Leonard go until Leonard looks less devastated. Will Leonard catch on to that? Doubtful.

Spock and McCoy are going to survive this rough patch, Jonathan can tell. There's something to be said for relationships built on the kind of candor those two use with each other.

Without doubt, Kirk has got some intense, loyal people surrounding him. Jim might have benefited from hearing this conversation too, but since he has taken so long to use the bathroom...

Jon halts that thought, doubles back to consider it more carefully—and gasps.

Swinging around the corner with a strangled cry, he pelts straight through the embrace of Spock and McCoy, who leap apart at his sudden appearance. Jonathan barrels through the restroom door and bellows across the stalls, "KIRK!"

No answer. A frantic search from stall to stall proves that the restroom is empty as suspected. Further damning evidence is a small window on the far wall that sits ajar.

"Shit," Jon curses.

McCoy and Spock enter the bathroom. When Jim's boyfriend takes in the open, empty stalls and the window, he says, "Oh god," and runs for the window, which is situated higher than he is tall to cry, "Jim!"

Jon runs the opposite way, out of the bathroom. In the hallway, he pauses long enough to get his bearings, do a quick-and-dirty mental recall of the blueprints to the precinct (something he memorized in the first month of dating Pike on a whim that he might one day need to sneak into the station to see his beloved—Pike had figured out his plan, though, and vowed to shoot Jon on site if he tried). Then Jon is running again, headed to the back of the station through the women's locker room, down another corridor and piggy-backing through Evidence Storage due to one officer being too startled to gather his wits and stop Archer. Jon locates the door he is looking for and yanks on the emergency bar. A red light flashes along with the cry of an alarm, and then Jonathan is outside, blinking against terribly bright sunlight and standing in the middle of a fenced-in yard.

Peering sideways, he spies his quarry. A figure Archer doesn't notice detaches from the wall when he moves in that direction and blocks his path.

With the sweetest smile, Uhura calls over her shoulder, "No problem, boys, I'll handle this!"

The next thing Jonathan knows, the world has flipped over. When his senses finally stop swirling, his nose is mashed into the grass and the weight pressing against his shoulder is a heeled boot. Uhura's boot.

Nyota has a hold on one of his arms, which is twisted behind him and going numb.

"Ugh," he complains to the Kirk-shaped shadow that appears within proximity to his face, "why do your friends keep doing this to me?"

Uhura's boot disappears off his shoulder, allowing Jon to take hold of the hand offering to help him up.

"Sorry," Jim apologizes, and begins to brush grass off Archer's Sheriff's jacket once Jon is steady on his feet.

"Not really," Nyota disagrees. "I've been dying to practice that move on someone."

Jon runs a hand down his face and decides it's best not to respond.

Somebody waves in his peripheral vision. "Can we get back to our plan?"

Jon's head snaps around. "You!"

"Aye," Montgomery Scott agrees in an aggrieved tone, "me." Then he rolls his eyes over to Kirk. "Why again was it important tae have the sheriff around?"

"Because," Jim begins, but then only blinks instead of answering.

Nyota sighs. "Monty, I explained this to you many times. Sheriff Archer is dating Mr. Pike, so now Jim has a cop dad _and_ a cop mom. Basically it's good for us, legally speaking."

Jim's eyes are suddenly shining. "They'll arrest us."

Nyota finishes with a grin, "But not prosecute!"

Jon hasn't gotten past the first part: "Why am I the mom?"

Equally confused, Scott shrugs.

"JIM!"

Leonard McCoy barrels through the fire exit, looking winded, livid, and no small amount of terrified. Spock trots through the same door in a calmer manner, but the glint in his dark eyes says he is not particularly pleased by Kirk's disappearing act either.

McCoy gesticulates wildly to the open window farther along the building and grabs a hold of Jim to yell at him, "A grown man can't fit through that damn thing! What did you do to yourself?"

Jim tries to placate his boyfriend. "Bones, really, it's okay. I used that window all the time when I was a kid. And see? I still fit!"

Leonard's response is a glare and a quick pat-down of his boyfriend's limbs. Jim yelps when the man reaches his hip.

Jonathan now has a second mission. Help McCoy put tons of weight on Kirk to keep him from squeezing through any more police station windows. He hides his worry by drawling, "Is there a reason you couldn't use the door like a normal person?"

Jim smiles wryly. "Because that door," he explains, indicating the one leading to the enclosed yard, "brings policemen."

And sure enough, two uniformed men jerk open the door on cue, drawing up short upon seeing their little party gathered in the yard. One of them appears to recognize Kirk because he mutters to his partner, "Pike's kid," and they take their hands off their holstered guns and disappear back inside the building.

Jon stares at the door until it has swung completely shut.

Jim sighs. "No fun. I bet they deactivated the alarm."

"Kiddo, you have a weird definition of fun."

"And you're pissing your boyfriend off," Leonard growls.

Jim offers said boyfriend a crooked smile and the poor excuse, "I can't help it that you're pissed."

"Okay," Jon declares in what he hopes is a responsible adult voice before McCoy decides to strangle Jim, "I need answers. Kirk, explain."

"How can I explain if I don't know the question?"

"I am wondering that also," Spock interjects.

Jon and Leonard shush the dark-haired man at the same time, then stare at each other for an awkward span of seconds.

Jon clears his throat. "Question one." He points to Scott. "Where in the hell has this goober been?"

"Hey," Scott pipes up, "who're you calling a goober!"

"For the record, I seriously regret releasing all of you from jail." He addresses Kirk, "Since your friend is out of hiding, am I to assume you don't think his life is in danger anymore?"

Kirk sobers. "Scotty's offered to help us. I won't let harm come to him."

Jon draws his eyebrows together. "I didn't ask that. Why did you call him here?"

"I didn't," Jim says at the same time Nyota and Scotty say, "We called Jim."

"Because Sulu called us," Nyota adds, "since he couldn't reach Kirk, Spock, or McCoy." She pauses. "Or you."

Jon resists the urge to check his cell phone for missed calls. Come to think of it, it's probably dead since he hasn't charged it in a while.

"In short," he summarizes, "this request to meet Kirk prompted him to climb out a tiny window and—" He peers upwards. "—over an extremely tall fence. Obviously you all thought it made zero sense to meet in the parking lot." And God help them if he's right.

Jim spins away and goes to the edge of the chain link fence. He stoops down there and pushes aside a rock, then peels back a corner of the fence. Replacing everything to make the fence look whole, he returns to the group and simply looks at Jon.

Jon isn't going to ask how many other escape routes have been created over the years so Jim can come and go from his father's station as he pleases. The less Archer knows, the fewer secrets he will be obligated to keep secret from Pike. Truly, what had raising this boy been like?

Jon lets those thoughts go and asks Nyota, "What did Sulu say?"

Nyota looks to Kirk. At Kirk's nod, she says, "Sulu and Chekov caught your mole."

Jon's throat is suddenly so tight he finds it difficult to swallow. "...Who?"

Uhura's expression softens, then, as though she finally understands she is relaying unfortunate news. She says a name.

Archer slams his eyes shut but opens them again within a second. Focusing on a small ant hill nestled in the grass between Kirk and Scott, he gives himself the necessary time to reorient his thinking and acknowledge both anguish and relief. "All right," he asserts with less inflection than before, "I'll take care of it."

Kirk corrects, "We'll take care of it. Together."

Jon bristles. "He's my responsibility."

"But _our_ lead. To discover what Nero is up to, we need him. Sulu and Chekov can trail him for as long as it takes to pinpoint a location. Scotty's going to rig a tracker."

"Actually," offers the man in question with more enthusiasm, "I'm going to create a device that I guarantee your deputy cannae recognize! Then I'll hook it up to all our—"

"Scotty," Jim interrupts, amused. "Later."

Scott eyes Kirk. "I dinnae know why I help you, lad."

"Because Jim is the only person who understands the things you like to talk about," McCoy points out.

"Aye," Scott agrees affably. "That he does."

Spock is looking between Scott and Kirk with a slight crease to his forehead. "That statement is incorrect. I also understand the minutiae of electrical engineering. Mr. Scott, if you require—"

Leonard elbows Spock in the side, and Spock turns to him, looking no less confused but nonetheless withholding the remainder of his remark.

"Back to the topic at hand, Sheriff, I think Jim has a point."

Jim looks to McCoy, eyes suddenly wide. "You do?"

"Yeah," Leonard replies, sounding resigned, "I do. Since it's obvious we're going to see this thing through, we have to do it together." To Jon, he says, "How you handle your deputy is your business, but can you at least hold off on detaining him until after we figure out whether or not Nero has Mr. Pike?"

Jon nods. "I can do that."

"Okay." McCoy glances at Spock. "We're on the same wavelength then."

"We are," Spock replies, and though no one else may recognize the unspoken acknowledgement between Spock and McCoy, Jon does. They have officially declared their intention to align themselves and present a united front.

Jon switches his gaze to Kirk, who is watching Spock and McCoy with a slight furrow between his eyebrows.

"Jim," he questions, "remember what I said about being partners?"

Jim turns to face him. "Yes, sir."

"Well, partner, there is something I need to tell you. Earlier I think you saw some of it on that board."

Jim steps forward, to him, with that strangely calm response again. "Tell me."

Everyone else, too, has grown quiet to listen.

Jon says plainly, "As you know, from the beginning this case hasn't given us much to work with. Yet with each clue we find, the more irrefutable the scenario becomes."

"Which scenario specifically?" Spock inquiries.

"The kidnapping as a ruse."

Kirk says nothing, just as he said little in the conference room. Scott's gaze widens. Nyota looks incredulous, and Leonard simply watches Jim with worry.

Archer sighs. "This implies the reality is much worse."

"What is the reality?" Jim asks softly.

Between today's squaring off with Marcus and the enlightening conversation with Liu, Jon simply cannot deny his gut feeling any longer. "Your father's being framed," he states.

Spock cocks his head.

Nyota demands, "For what?"

Jon sighs again. "Our million dollar question, folks."

Briefly Jim closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he announces flatly, "I don't care why. The mission stands. We get my dad back."

"Then what, Jim?" Leonard challenges. "The truth prevails? Your father might be in handcuffs if we don't think this through!"

"As long as he stays alive, Bones. I won't lose another parent."

 _Ah, kiddo,_ Jon sympathizes.

Spock is the one to suggest, "Given his experience, perhaps Sheriff Archer can offer a compromise."

Kirk, Leonard, and the others turn expectantly to Archer.

At times like this, Jon thrives under pressure. "Easy as pie," he boasts, hooking his thumbs into the waistline of his pants, "and my favorite method for stopping bad guys. Kirk, I bet you can guess this one. You did a pretty decent job of it last Christmas."

"Sabotage?" Jim responds.

"Ding-ding-ding!" Jon beams. "What a smart boy you are!"

Leonard lays a hand across his eyes. "Oh god."

Nyota looks to Spock. "Isn't that how Archer talks to his dog?"

"I suspect the Sheriff may desire Jim as a prized pupil. In researching his past, it seems Archer also spent his youth as a juvenile delinquent."

Now Uhura considers Archer with more interest.

Jon would be affronted but he is much too curious to know how Spock dug up records that he had had sealed by the director of his police academy. Then he glances at Jim and realizes with a growing apprehension that Kirk actually might not find it humorous that his father is dating a former law-breaker.

Arms crossed, Jim studies Jon from head to toe like there might be something different about his appearance. Then his eyes meet Jonathan's. "I stole a car at eleven."

Unthinking, Jon counters, "When I was ten, I stole a tractor and mowed down all the pasture fences around town so the cows could escape."

Jim breaks into a grin. "Cool."

"It's like I'm in a nightmare," groans McCoy, "and I can't wake up."

The back door to the building slams open without warning, and Liu is there, glaring at all of them from the doorway. "Inside," she orders.

Jon is fairly certain Jim's woeful look is a mirror of his own. "You can go first," he offers.

"No way," Jim objects. "You go first—hey, Bones!" Kirk's protests are no match for his boyfriend's determination to haul him away. After Kirk and McCoy disappear through the doorway, Spock pauses long enough to incline his head respectfully at Archer and say, "I have your records in safe-keeping." Locking his hands behind his back, he follows the pair.

Uhura floats by. "That means we own you now."

"Cows," Scott marvels and goes after her.

Archer looks up at the cloudless blue sky and wonders if he has become victim to a cosmic joke; yet at the same time he is able to admit that he is not as distressed as he should be, or perhaps as he would have been only one year ago. Pike has a great kid—kids, really, since Kirk's friends have lately become a package deal.

Strange, Jon muses, that he kind of wishes he could be the mom.

Shaking off these peculiar thoughts, he heads inside to find out just what Liu is going to do once everyone is wrangled together. It's certain to be an event of the century!

"Chris," he whispers, closing the door behind him, "I wish you could see us now."

* * *

A grandfather clock sounds from a hallway, chiming the change in hour. With it comes the sounds of voices, one voice in particular approaching the spacious living room where Pike resides. Hearing that voice prompts Pike to take a large mouthful of brandy and swallow it all-at-once. Coughing slightly from the fiery trail it creates down his throat, he then swivels around on his bar stool and pins the newcomer with a bland look.

"You're late," he chides.

"Didn't expect you to hold to a schedule," responds Marcus, who waves one of Kor's men back into the hallway. He tips his head to encompass the lavish surroundings. "Comfortable?"

Chris lifts his glass. "The hospitality is decent."

"Mm." Marcus joins Pike at the bar. "I hear Kor's excited."

"One of his runners showed up about an hour ago with a request to see him. Did you know this house has its own study? And a guest parlor? I feel like I'm stuck in a scene from The Godfather," Chris chuckles.

Marcus glances sidelong at him. "Did he tell you what the runner wanted?"

"Kor isn't going to share information about his illegal activities with a cop."

"I thought you would have buddied up to him by now."

It is easy for Chris to adopt an incredulous tone. "He's still a criminal, Alex—and my kidnapper."

Marcus plants an elbow on the counter and relaxes against it in the same way he used to when they would hang out in one of the local bars after closing a case together. The sense of nostalgia that overwhelms Chris is coupled with a moment's regret. When Chris was promoted to Senior Detective, his relationship with Alex became more competitive. They retreated to a surface friendliness, sacrificing the closeness they used to have for the sake of ambition. And now, he knows, that connection shall never be regained. All that will remain is a bitterness to last beyond the flesh.

Marcus is still talking. "If Kor doesn't hear from Nero soon, we'll have to speed things up. Are you prepared?"

"That depends on what you mean by 'speed things up'," Chris replies.

"What if you called Jim?"

Pike's head snaps around. "What?"

"Tell him you're okay, that you're preoccupied but should be home soon."

"I will not make my son an accomplice," he states in a steely tone.

"I said nothing about making him an accomplice. Ease his worry about his old man."

Chris's voice turns colder. "You know very well if I make Jim think I set up a charade, he won't tell anyone, and eventually someone will figure out he hasn't disclosed all that he knows."

Marcus's mouth twitches. "At least what the kid lacks in common sense, he makes up for with loyalty."

Chris has to look away or he'll do something untoward to Marcus. "Using Jim is out of the question. If you want to push up the timeline, give Liu my gun."

"The gun is useless without a body, and the body has gone to Nero, which is out of her jurisdiction." Marcus softens his tone suddenly. "However, we do know the law in that dirtbag's territory, don't we?"

Chris can tell this is a test of some kind. "Jonathan Archer, you mean?"

"Archer," Marcus repeats. "A friend of yours, I hear."

Chris hasn't only spent this past hour wondering about Kor's visitor but also thinking about Jon. The only reason he can come up with to explain why Archer wasn't at the press conference is that Jon has likely involved himself in the investigation and is being careful not to own up to being family.

Alex is hinting at something which might solve this mystery, so Chris is willing to play along. "Where did you hear that?"

"From the man himself." Straightening up and crossing his arms, Marcus elucidates, "Archer showed up and wormed his way into our captain's good graces. She gave him access to our resources."

"That sounds like him."

"The man's an asshole."

Chris suppresses a spark of anger. "He's that too."

"Why's a sheriff from another county so concerned with you, Chris? And your son, too."

Chris is so relieved that he has a difficult time hiding it. "For one thing, he's handling Jim's case."

"That's it?"

Marcus wants him to say something else. But what?

"Interesting," remarks the other man, as if he has forgotten his own question. "Then Archer knows he shouldn't be on _your_ case. Conflict of interest."

Chris doesn't like the sound of that. "Why does it bother you that he is involved?"

Marcus's eyes become hooded. "Because he's getting in my way."

Silence overtakes them until Chris pushes his glass aside and turns to face Marcus fully. "Here's a friendly warning, Alex: Jonathan Archer isn't someone you can take on by yourself. He may act like the town fool but he's practically running an entire county on his own. Has been for a long while. Do you know why? Because during his first term he scared most of the kingpins out of town, flipped the bureaucracy on its head, and refused to take shit from anyone. He earned his badge the hard way. You don't mess with a guy like that."

"Sounds like you respect him."

"I do," Chris replies seriously. "My advice is stay off his radar. By the time we've done what we need to, he will have gotten bored and gone home."

Marcus drops his head and lifts his hand to his temple as if he has a headache but his shoulders quiver as if he's laughing. When he looks up again, the amusement on his face isn't mirrored in his wintry eyes.

"You never did lie very well, Christopher." Marcus lowers his hand to Pike's shoulder, clamping down there in a painful grip. "Why don't we try honesty for a change?"

Chris tenses under the hand.

Drawing in closer, Marcus murmurs, "I know you have a dirty little secret. I admit, I always thought it was Liu. Maybe she favored you because you were sleeping with her."

"What? No," Chris denies. "I don't sleep with married women, let alone one who is my superior officer. You know me better than that."

Marcus gives him a thin smile. "Apparently I don't know you at all. You refuse to screw a married woman but you'll fuck a man."

It's difficult not to give Marcus the satisfaction of a reaction but Pike thinks he manages well. "I think you did more snooping in my house than just locating my gun."

"You didn't take precautions to hide the evidence," counters Marcus. "Who's the boyfriend, Pike? No, wait. That's an easy guess. Archer."

Pike narrows his eyes. "I'm not ashamed of who I bed, Alex—not that my personal life is any of your business."

Marcus draws back slightly with a look of contempt. "It makes sense now why you're so tolerant of that queer we hired last year for Reception."

Chris couldn't be more disgusted. "When did you become such a bigot? Or have you always hidden your real self behind another face?"

Marcus's hand shoots from Chris's shoulder to his hair, wrenching his head back at a painful angle. "Now, now, Chris, that's not a very nice thing to say to the man who mentored you."

The burning in Chris's throat is rising bile. Just thinking about how he respected Alex, trusted him for years as a friend, sickens him—and makes him extremely angry. He wishes he hadn't let go of his tumbler. He could shove it into Marcus's face.

That sentiment must show, for the man states in triumph, "You hate me. Good. Finally, the feeling is mutual."

"The only difference being that I never betrayed you." Chris grimaces when Marcus wrenches his head back even farther. "Admit it, you decided to hate me because the alternative is to hate yourself."

For some reason, Marcus releases him then, backing off. Chris realizes belatedly he should have expected what would come next just from the flicker of cruel anticipation in the other man's eyes; but Pike doesn't and the punch catches him off-guard, sends him careening sideways against the bar. His elbow knocks off his nearly empty glass of brandy, which shatters across Kor's expensive tiled floor.

Marcus locks his fingers into the front of Pike's shirt. "I'm going to enjoy this, Chris. And when I stand in front of your son afterwards, I will think about how good it felt to ruin you. But don't you worry about Jimmy. I plan to take care of his future. He'll need a mentor, same as you did all those years ago."

The sound that bursts out of Chris is the unadulterated rage of a parent whose child is in danger. There's no room to think, only to act, and he does, driving his whole body into Marcus's and sending them tumbling backwards to the rug. He lands a solid punch to Marcus's jaw before Marcus flips him sideways and drives a boot into his solar plexus.

Distantly, over the ringing in his ears, Chris hears the sound of running, of alarmed shouting. Marcus spits something out in Kor's men's native tongue. Chris uses the opportunity to launch himself back into the man's mid-section. Once Marcus is flat on his back again, Chris pins him with a knee in his ribcage and wraps his hands around the man's throat. He tastes blood in his mouth, having bitten his tongue at some point.

Marcus makes a choked sound; laughter, Chris comprehends. The bastard is laughing.

Only then does Pike see the movement in his peripheral vision, but he can't move aside without letting go of his captive, and there's nothing he wants more in that moment than to ring the very life out of Alexander Marcus. The blow to the back of his head isn't enough to knock him completely out; he comes to on his side, the sound of Marcus's laughter still ringing in his ears.

Kor looms overhead with a expression of displeasure. "Don't kill him," Kor orders, speaking not to Chris about Marcus but to the men circling around Pike like vultures over prime carrion. "Nero has requested that we bring him alive."

Chris tries to get out of the way of the first well-aimed kick, but his body is too sluggish to respond. All he can do under the assault of Kor's men is protect himself by curling inwards and gritting his teeth against the stabbing pain. But someone doesn't appreciate Pike's attempts to minimize the damage, for he is soon dragged backwards by his shirt collar. Marcus, now back on his feet, has a hold of him.

"Let me help you," Marcus tells Kor, smirking, and draws back a fist.

Chris bares his bloody teeth. "My son," he vows, concerned about only one thing, "will never be corrupted by the likes of you."

"Then I'll dispose of him too," Marcus promises, and this time the blow to the head allows Chris to sink into oblivion.

* * *

 **Remaining chapters 9 -12 are under way and will be gifted to my readers by New Year's. It's my way of saying thank you for hanging in there 'til the end. Happy Holidays, everyone!**


	9. Part Nine

**Very Important Note: In keeping with my promise, I have tried to wrap up this WIP all-at-once as a gift for my readers. So starting today, I will be posting one chapter every two days. This gives me the necessary time to add the finishing touches and also means you won't have to endure the agony of suspense for too long. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year's, everyone!**

* * *

 **Part Nine**

The atmosphere of the canteen is subdued, interrupted only by the _pat-pat-pat_ of water dripping into the sink and the staccato click of heels against a tiled floor.

"I should have known," Liu announces without ceasing to pace. Her fierce gaze takes in the one officer in her employ, Phil, and those men and women who are not hers in any official capacity but nonetheless hold a stake in the present circumstances. Each person watches her with a mix of interest and apprehension.

Jonathan thinks he might be the most interested and least apprehensive of the bunch. Of course, next to him, Robbins doesn't appear to be either, maintaining what he would call a dignified air of calm.

She clearly knows something he doesn't, so he asks, "Who upset Liu this time?"

Jim ponders that also. "It wasn't me, was it?"

Jon drapes an arm across Kirk's shoulders. "It's probably both of us."

Jim stares at Jon for a long moment, then requests of Robbins, "Save me first."

"Age before beauty," quips Jon.

Jim's mouth curls at the corners. "So you admit you're old."

Jonathan slides his arm from shoulders to neck, putting the brat in a headlock.

Ignoring Kirk's protests to Archer's gleeful mussing of Kirk's hair, Robbins glances at Liu. "Now do you understand my reservations?"

Liu stills. "Archer, Kirk. Enough."

Jon releases his victim with reluctance. "But, Captain, he called me old."

"Of course you're old to someone half your age," she counters, much to his horror.

Jim snickers.

Liu turns on Jim. "Keep trying my patience, mister."

Jim wilts and murmurs an apology.

Of Kirk's friends, Uhura is the one to step forward. "Captain Liu, with all due respect, I do greatly admire your scare tactics, but can we get on with this meeting? _My_ patience isn't faring any better."

Scott leans around a blank-faced Spock, whom he seems to believe is a protective shield. "I don't like it here."

Across the canteen, McCoy finishes making himself a cup of coffee and leans against the counter to observe them all with a highly unimpressed air. "I have a question. That is, if anybody can spare time from plotting to how lock up my idiot boyfriend and our idiot sheriff to answer it."

Robbins studies Leonard's insolent slouch with obvious approval. "You may be even better than I heard."

"Oh?" replies Kirk's boyfriend mildly, pausing to sip his coffee.

"We should exchange phone numbers. I have information about Mr. Kirk which even his father would not know."

"Wait a minute," Jim interrupts, no doubt disconcerted.

McCoy straightens up a little, his next echo of "Oh?" much more curious.

Robbins looks knowingly at her ex-fiancée's son. "You did request that I meet your boyfriend."

"But what are you going to tell him?" asks Jim nervously.

Jon raises a hand. "I want to know too."

More hands go up.

"We'll start a story time," Liu promises in a dry tone. "Now hands down, everyone. McCoy, what's your question?"

"I can't help but notice who's here—and who isn't. Since you generally don't seem inclined to care who witnesses you yelling at us, I can only assume this is a briefing, not a dressing-down. But, a private one?"

"Astute of you, Mr. McCoy. To be more specific, once we walk out of this room," Liu explains, taking the time to hold the gaze of each person there, "this meeting becomes non-existent." Then she beckons Robbins to her side. "Una, tell them."

Robbins's face turns into a mask of professionalism, her composure so strong that it sends a chill down Archer's spine. He braces himself for bad news.

And Robbins gives it: "I received orders to pursue Christopher Pike as a criminal."

Kirk lurches forward. Jon grabs his left arm; Uhura, Jim's right. The hand which lands on Kirk's shoulder belongs to Spock. With a soft curse, Leonard disposes of his coffee and crosses the canteen while Phil, Jon observes from the corner of his eye, drags out a chair and takes a seat like a man on the receiving end of a death sentence.

Jim's fury is directed at Robbins and Liu. "Dad's not a criminal!"

Robbins remains neutral. "My superior hardly cares about that, Jim."

"And unfortunately," Liu adds, "it's my job to stand aside for an investigation sanctioned by our federal counterparts."

"Screw them!"

Privately, Jon echoes Jim's sentiment.

Lines of worry crease McCoy's forehead. "Can't you tell them to back off... or buy time?"

"The moment Captain Liu refuses to cooperate, Gaius will take over. I guarantee it."

Jon folds his arms across his chest. "What's his endgame, Robbins?"

When the agent turns her gaze upon him, he sees that she isn't as impartial to this development as she would like to appear. The fury in her gaze rivals Kirk's but is also coupled with the kind of resignation which implies she knows they're on the losing side.

"Next spring there will be an opening at the Director level in our division. As a senior agent, Gaius does qualify—or would, if he had ever successfully closed a major case."

"This could be his last chance to shine," Jon interprets. "I can only imagine the accolades which accompany uncovering a case of corruption from a simple kidnapping." He says bitterly, "I bet the bastard started salivating the moment you reported in. Probably is already on his way here."

Liu nods confirmation of that guess. "Which is why we need to decide quickly among ourselves our own plan of action based on the assumption Pike is still one of us. My hands will be tied in a relatively short period of time." She meets Jon's gaze. "Concerning that personal matter we discussed earlier, Sheriff, Agent Robbins has a hunch she wants to follow up on."

Robbins's mouth forms a thin line. "You said once that he couldn't have worked alone. I have some old contacts that may be able to shed light on possible... acquaintances."

Kirk turns to Archer. "Who?"

Jon regrets that he can't share what he has learned about Marcus. "Let Number One handle it."

McCoy frowns from Jim to Jon. So does Spock, though the man doesn't frown, per se, just gives the impression of thoughtful consideration as his gaze bores a hole into the side of Archer's head.

Jim doesn't argue despite obviously hating not knowing. "What about us? What can we do to help?"

"That's what I need to know," Liu says. "What _are_ your plans, Kirk?"

Jon clears his throat. "The kid, ah, has a hunch too. We're pursuing that."

"So the question becomes," Nyota interjects, "which of us is wasting precious time?"

"My greater concern is that we won't have the authority to implement a rescue," Liu confesses.

Archer taps the Sheriff's star on his jacket. "You might not, but I do."

Robbins points out, "Agent Gaius's new direction for the investigation includes bringing in more of our internal resources, agents who can take orders without asking questions. He won't extend any of you—including you, Sheriff—leniency for interfering in this case the way Liu has."

"In other words, I can kiss my income as a consultant goodbye," Jon jokes. Don't they know he can't be scared into submission by federal agents with ugly eyebrows?

Liu snorts. "I wasn't planning to pay you anyway."

"We don't care about money," Jim interrupts, hands flexing agitatedly at his sides. "We don't care what Eyebrow Jerk wants either. We're going to help you."

"Who's Eyebrow Jerk?" Scott wants to know.

"Her boss," Uhura says, pointing at Robbins. "You'll understand when you see him in person."

But suddenly Scott's hands go up in the air. "No way, lass. I'm not gonna be here once this place turns into FBI City!"

Robbins's mouth twitches. "You're already in the presence of the FBI, Mr. Montgomery Scott."

Scott's eyes bug out. "How do you know my name?" He looks fearfully at Spock, then Jim. "How does she know my name?"

"According to my resources, there was a terrorist incident last year... among other, _recent_ incidents no one cared to inform me about." Robbins's blue eyes pin Kirk.

Scott slinks back behind Spock. Jim takes up a position behind Jon.

Apparently Robbins has done her homework since Archer's little slip-up about the assault on her boy Kirk. He hopes she doesn't mention him as one of those resources. He tries to change the subject, if only to save his own ass. "Thanks for giving us the warning about Dickface." With a cough, Jon amends, "I meant Eyebrow Jerk."

"I like Dickface better," Nyota decides.

"I think to everyone's benefit, those of us not on Liu's payroll will be leaving in short order. If you need us," Jon tells Liu, "call us. If you find a lead, same."

"Will that work both ways, Sheriff?" she wants to know.

"Yes." He maneuvers Kirk out from behind him and squeezes the young man's shoulder. "Our first priority, folks, is bringing Chris home. Second priority: keep him out of the hands of those who will do him harm. It may seem redundant to keep repeating ourselves—"

Liu picks up her cue, finishing for him, "—but a man in a tight spot needs to know where his duty lies. If a choice becomes necessary, fall back on the priorities. You will make the right one."

Jonathan really wouldn't mind raising the next generation of law enforcement if Liu was helping him do it. He pats Kirk's back with a feeling of pride.

The moment is lost when the man at the small table delicately clears his throat. Now that Jon is thinking about it, he wonders why Phil is here.

"Most of you know I think of Chris as a brother," Phil begins solemnly. "Thank you for trusting me enough to include me in this briefing." His expression turns puzzled. "My only complaint is that no one's given me an assignment. I do get one, right?"

"The most important assignment," purrs Liu, after which Phil suddenly looks like he might regret asking.

Jon and Jim question at the same time, "What's the most important assignment?" Then they stare at one another quizzically.

Robbins smiles genuinely for the first time since the start of the meeting. "Phil is going to sabotage the department coordinations."

"Oh god." Phil covers his eyes. Then, peeking first at Robbins, next Kirk, he wants to know, "Will this be worse than that time with Jim's birthday party?"

"Hardly that bad," Robbins assures him with laughter in her voice.

For some reason, Jim refuses to look anywhere but at the floor.

"What happened at your birthday party?" Jon whispers to him.

"I turned fifteen," Kirk murmurs, as if that is the best explanation he can give.

Phil's eyes twinkle. "Nobody was arrested, at least."

Liu stalls any further reminiscing of the good old days with a lifted hand and imperious tone. "It happened before my time, so I don't want the details. Ever."

Jon is disappointed. He wants _all_ the details. This could be educational material.

"Dismissed," Liu says, and is the first person to proceed everyone from the canteen.

Archer's restored good humor fades while he, Kirk, and the others casually retrieve their belongings in preparation to leave the precinct for the final time. Unease takes it place, a feeling that they might not be the only ones privy to the changing circumstances. Of course, that could be the result of Moreau watching their group intently from across the bullpen; she stands just slightly behind her colleague, DeSalle, whose head is bent close to Officer Carlos in deep discussion. Phil approaches the officer in that moment and redirects her attention.

"Let's get out of here," Jon mutters for his companions' ears only.

Wordlessly, his charges follow in his wake from the police station's inner sanctum.

* * *

Scott needs time to complete his tracking device. To keep his top-secret workstation shrouded in mystery, according to Uhura, adults with Sheriff badges aren't allowed to know its location. They split into two teams mainly because Jim is determined to ride shotgun in Archer's truck. After a quick, quiet conversation between Kirk, Spock, and McCoy, Kirk ends up accompanying Jonathan alone.

Jon should have expected that an hour alone with Jim would drive him crazy.

"I can't believe this," he finds himself muttering about halfway to their destination. _This is Liu's fault. She did this to me on purpose._

Drumming an indiscernible rhythm against the truck's dashboard that doesn't sync with his humming at all, Jim pauses long enough to ask, "Believe what?"

Jonathan hunches over the steering wheel. "Nothing."

Jim starts humming again, placing his other hand on the dashboard so he can drum with all ten fingers.

Archer grits his teeth.

"Question," the ever-annoying Kirk decides. "Why aren't we going faster?"

Just to be ornery, Jonathan takes his foot off the gas pedal and the truck, cruising at the minimum speed limit for interstate driving, slows to a crawl.

In the passenger seat, Jim stops drumming on the dashboard in lieu of plucking at his seatbelt like a guitar string.

"Stop that," Archer warns him.

"Yes, _Mom_ ," Kirk retorts, tucking his hands under his legs.

Damn the Scott kid. Jon's never going to live that comment down. And why had Jon ever been pleased to think of himself as a parent to anybody? Parenthood is the pits.

That's it, he thinks sourly. That is _exactly_ why Liu has finally blessed the participation of Jim and his friends in Pike's recovery. The vague little remark she gave about responsibility means all of them have become Jon's responsibility and there's nothing he can do about it.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

"This mom is going to leave your ass at the next gas station if you don't be quiet."

"You can't do that," Jim tells him in a very reasonable tone of voice. "That's child abandonment."

Jon slams his foot down on the accelerator, and the truck chokes in confusion for a second before leaping forward to do his bidding. To hell with driving like a grandmother. The faster he gets them to his station, the quicker he can lock Kirk up in a jail cell!

Archer makes the mistake of glancing sideways.

Staring at Jon with an amused little smile is Jim's way of declaring that he knows what a pain in the ass he's being.

Except he says, "I know you wouldn't leave me behind."

Oh, this truly is hell—because Kirk is right. Jonathan is responsible for him, and Jim is finally willing to acknowledge the fact, accept it even.

"Kiddo, we need your dad back precisely so I _can_ dump you where you belong."

Jim's unruffled "Okay" isn't comforting at all.

"Then I'm going on a long vacation," Jon grouses.

"Vacation?" Kirk's entire countenance brightens. "Have you ever been to the Yosemite national park? I want to climb a mountain." As Jon knocks his forehead against the steering wheel in despair, Jim advises sagely, "You should probably watch the road." Then he twists around in his seat, looking through the back windshield of the truck. "Hey, another question."

"What now?" Jon asks plaintively.

"Can sheriffs get speeding tickets?"

He snaps upright. "What?"

Jim's voice has that tinge of amusement again. "Because you just went seventy through a fifty, and now you've got a cop on your tail."

"Oh fucking hell!"

Kirk starts cackling.

* * *

Revenge. Revenge, revenge, revenge. Jon's definitely going to have his revenge on his innocent-faced passenger. It finally occurs to him how he can do it, too.

"So, Kirk," he begins noncommittally enough, "want to know a secret?"

Jim takes the bait. "What secret?"

"Your Spock and McCoy are a match made in heaven."

Kirk's expression goes through several phases: shock, relief, a hint of unease, and, lastly, suspicion. "What do you mean?"

Hearing the demand, Jon suppresses a smile. Apparently there couldn't have been a better enticement to get the conversational ball rolling. "I'm just saying if you can get them to work together, that's a winning combination for sure. Why, what did it sound like I said?"

Jim stares at him for a long minute. Then, "Do you think it's possible?"

Kiddo, it's already _probable._ "Don't know," he says, only to add more slyly, "Do you think it's possible?"

Jim's gaze returns to the road ahead but not before Jonathan catches a glimpse of fierce desire in his eyes. Kirk answers rather neutrally, "It might happen if it was up to Spock alone, but Bones is more complicated."

Ah, sweet revenge. "He's jealous."

"I know."

"He's so jealous that—wait, what? You _know_?"

Sighing, Kirk folds his arms across his chest. "What're you playing at, Archer? Are you trying to make me uncomfortable? Angry?" He glances in Jon's direction. "Or do you really want to have a heart-to-heart discussion about my love life?"

Jon mutters, "You sound too much like your dad." And too smart to be outwitted like his father too. Damn it. He confesses, "Fine. I thought you might squirm. But since we're on the subject, I should mention I already had a not-so-comfortable conversation about this with McCoy. He doesn't mean to be jealous. It's a knee-jerk reaction."

Kirk's "To what?" is incredibly tense.

Jon suddenly feels like it was a bad idea to start this conversation. "Ask your boyfriend that question."

Jim turns in his seat to face Archer. "Is it something I can fix?"

"Fix?" he repeats, mystified. "Are you assuming it's your fault?"

"I thought it might be," Kirk murmurs.

Jon swerves off to the side of the road and, after releasing a giant lungful of air, changes the gear so they're idling in Park.

Kirk shrinks back to his side of the truck. "Why did you do that?"

"Did you just tell me it's _your fault_? All right," he says, turning to stare Pike's kid in the eyes, "hit me with it."

"H-Hit you?"

"With the truth, Jim. As you see it." He crosses his arms over his chest and, at the ensuing silence, adds, "I'm listening."

Jim opens and closes his mouth—and finally blurts out, "Bones doesn't think I'm serious. About us, I mean. I used to... date a lot. Not seriously. I told you about Marlena, remember? He knows how many there were." Jim grimaces. "I haven't told him he's the one—that there won't be others—so he can't know, right? He thinks it's possible I could want someone else."

Part way through the rushed explanation, Jonathan has to close his eyes.

"I screwed up," Jim concludes, distressed.

"You," Jon says, opening his eyes, "are definitely an idiot, Kirk, but not a screw-up."

Jim's fingers pick at his seatbelt. "What does that mean?"

"It means tell McCoy you love him. And be prepared to let him get all mopey about it."

Jim's throat works. "He won't believe me?"

"Why you're an idiot, Exhibit A. _McCoy already knows._ This is what I was talking about when I said 'knee-jerk reaction', Jim. Leonard's very much aware that he has no reason to feel jealous over the friendship you have with Spock."

Kirk lets go of the seatbelt. "Spock?"

Uh-huh. There's such a thing as saying too much. Jonathan should have remembered that. "Don't worry, they've already figured it out." He chuckles awkwardly, only to realize Jim has no intention of laughing with him. _Me and my big mouth._ "Okay, look. Spock and McCoy had their own 'heart-to-heart'. I'm not telling you this to upset you."

Jim says in a voice too faint to be convincing, "Why would I be upset?"

"First things first. Be aware they decided to work out their differences. _Don't_ interfere."

"Don't interfere," Jim repeats obediently.

"If you do," Archer warns him, "you could stand in the way of their progress."

"Okay." Kirk mimes zipping his mouth shut. Just when Jon thinks he has gotten off easy, Kirk leans across the cab, wanting to know, "What else did they say?"

"Can't tell you."

"How are they going to work out their differences?"

"Kirk..."

"But I want to know!"

Jon pulls the truck back on the highway. "Stop pestering me, please."

"Why's Bones jealous of Spock?"

 _Because Spock might be rival material._ But Jon is determined to fan no more flames. "Think of it this way. Your boyfriend is too smart to be dumb for very long. Plus, if he ends up making you unhappy, Pike will kick his ass clear across the nation."

Kirk's face has a happy flush to it. "Dad really did get mad that one time a date stood me up in high school. I didn't tell him the part where I saw her with another guy."

Jon whispers conspiratorially, "You can tell me instead. See how good I am at solving relationship problems?"

Jim whispers back, "Somehow I really doubt that."

He grins. "You're right. I'd be worse than your father. I know where to incinerate the bodies."

Jim is suddenly looking at him very strangely.

Feeling far more cheerful now, Jon taps a little rhythm on the steering wheel. "Your days of relationship problems are pretty much over anyway. McCoy cares about you too much to dump you, and you're like one of those vicious little terriers who sinks his teeth into flesh and can't be pried off. Enjoy your good luck, kiddo."

Jim's strange look only intensifies, as though he can't figure out if Jon just praised or insulted him.

Archer isn't going to enlighten Kirk to the truth either, instead switching the subject deftly. "Speaking of smart people, I can tell you what your main problem is."

"That I'm stuck in this truck with you?"

"I said smart, not smart _ass_." Before Kirk can antagonize him further, he elaborates, "You're not focused. You use your wily genius to get into trouble."

"More like to get _out_ of it," mutters Kirk.

Jon ignores that. "I can relate. I used to be just like you. So here's advice, same as it was given to me: if you really convinced you're smarter than everyone else, use that genius to find ways to help those who can't help themselves. _Then_ you can brag about it."

"Who told you that?"

"Your father." Jonathan recalls the memory fondly. "At the Academy we were supposed to be competing against each other. Instead he said he believed in me. How that shocked me, you have no idea, because even the instructors treated me like wasted effort."

Jim's voice softens. "He tells me that too."

"He means it, Jim."

"Is that when you started to like him?"

"It was difficult not to."

"Why didn't you, you know, tell him sooner?"

There are a few ways Jonathan could answer that question. He decides to acknowledge a truth. "Pike may have thought I had worth, but I needed to prove it to myself first. That kind of thing takes time. And besides, when you're afraid of disappointing someone you really care about, you can be dumb enough to make the wrong decision. Ironic, isn't it?"

"Yeah," his companion agrees, and says no more.

Jonathan flips on the radio, bypasses a few music stations before backtracking in surprise. He listens to the jovial tune for a minute, only to complain, "It's damned early to be breaking out the Christmas music."

Jim reaches over and cranks up the volume. Jon narrows his eye and changes the radio to another station. Jim changes it back.

They nearly have a slap-fight, and when Jon veers dangerously towards a ditch, Jim points out, "You have to watch the road," and so Jonathan loses.

Not as annoyed as he should be at Kirk's lopsided victorious grin, Jon drapes his arm along the seat. "You know," he muses, "I'm beginning to see why your father is so desperate for a partner."

"You can handle it," comes the rather casual reply. Jim drops his hand from the tuning dial to pull out a cell phone, oblivious to Archer's stare. "Bones texted. They made it to the Lair."

Jon grasps the only thing which makes any sense to him. "Is it an actual lair?"

"More like a warehouse turned apartment. It's awesome."

"Uh-huh." Jon is going to have to find this place. Maybe, in the way they plan to track his deputy, he can track Scott to this Lair some day. Wouldn't that be a fun adventure? That thought leads him to another one. "Is it secure?"

Kirk cuts his gaze to Archer. "Scotty and I booby-trapped it."

That's all Jonathan needs to know. He recalls too clearly the kind of surprises left by Kirk as a means of preventing him from snooping through Kirk's bedroom.

"Then we'll take care of our business, and they can handle theirs."

Tucking his cell phone away, Jim picks up his cue like any properly annoying progeny. "Are we there yet?"

Jonathan grins and stomps hard on the gas pedal. "Close your eyes, count to three, and maybe we will be."

Somehow, it doesn't shock him that Kirk does exactly that.

Afterwards, they laugh about it together.

* * *

Perhaps for the first time in his life, Jonathan looks around his Sheriff's Department with striking clarity and realizes how forlorn it has become. He has made a mistake by allowing himself to stay preoccupied, to expect his team to carry the burden of their jobs without him. However, that guilt doesn't prevent Archer from striding through the building like a man on a mission. He barks the name of the deputy he has always trusted as a friend as much as a work colleague.

In the bullpen, Matthews, who has a habit of leaning too far back in his chair when bored, almost tips out onto the floor at his boss's unexpected appearance. No doubt the reason for Matthew's continued shock even after righting himself is the person close on Jon's heels.

Larry has stepped from hallway which leads to the restrooms when Jon finds him and snags him by the collar. Then he proceeds to haul his protesting quarry to his office. Jon finds Jim's startled expression extremely hilarious as he closes the office door in the kid's face. Matthews, having caught up to their little party, is equally unused to being closed out.

"What the hell, Jon?" Larry sputters as Jon pushes him towards a chair.

Obtusely, Jim begins to pound on the door. Jon unlocks it, opens it long enough to order, "Give me ten minutes, kiddo," and closes it again.

"Sir," Matthews calls through the door, "why's Kirk here?"

Jonathan draws the blinds for privacy. Larry has subsided enough to simply watch him take a seat behind the desk.

Jon thinks about taking a minute to breathe but deep breaths won't alleviate the stress of what must come next. He forces his fingers through his hair instead and says bluntly, "Jenkins has been compromised."

Larry stares at him, uncomprehending.

"Compromised," Jon repeats, then more painfully, "Corrupted."

His friend pales. "That's not possible. Jon, no."

Jon braces his forearms on the desk. "It's true."

"Shit." Larry seems to remember he needs to breathe and drags in a lungful of air. " _Shit_. How did you figure it out?"

Jonathan's hands tremble a little when he locks his fingers together. "He was seen in the company of Nero's right-hand man—the one we arrested last year."

"Who got away," Larry supplies. "Jesus, Jon. I just can't... You say it's true, so it must be, but Jenkins is so... Damn it, I went to his kid's graduation!"

The man looks suspiciously close to tears, and Archer could cry himself. Fighting not to show that weakness, he settles for looking at his hands. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

"Why?" Larry demands suddenly. "What in hell is worth betraying everyone he knows?"

"I can't answer that, Larry."

"Then we'll fucking ask him!"

"No," Jon commands, finally able to regain control of himself when he has a reason to think past the pain. "I need him."

Larry's shock is palpable. "You don't mean that."

"Unfortunately I do."

The deputy leans forward in his chair, gripping its arms, expression hardening. "With all due respect, sir, our duty is to arrest him. Even if he's is just eyes and ears for Nero, that means we never had a chance of bringing the bastard to justice. I thought it seemed crazy that we didn't have a single lead on Kirk's attackers but now I know why. This whole time Jenkins was working with us to work against us. And you want to turn a blind eye to that?"

"No, I don't." Jon sighs. "Larry, make no mistake, I feel as hurt and angry as you do. But at the end of the day, I _need_ to catch the bigger fish. I need to get Nero, and so I need Jenkins. He's our closest link—our _only_ link—and we have to use him as such."

Larry sits back, clearly unhappy but without further protest.

Archer opens the bottom drawer of his desk. "Kirk's case goes on hold starting today. We're not giving up. We're switching priorities. Shit's going to hit the fan about Detective Pike soon, for reasons I can't divulge right now. We have to find Pike before then."

"How does Nero get us to Pike?"

Jon thumbs open the folder he had retrieved, staring down at the initial report filed last year about the Christmas debacle, yet another open case because he was never able to take the suspects into custody. "Our bad guy always winds up in the middle somehow. Even if I'm grasping at straws here, I want to be able to say with certainty it was or was not Nero who kidnapped Pike. Once Chris is safe..." He stops, starts again. "Once Kirk's father is safe, we'll deal with our little problem."

Larry stays quiet for a moment before asking, "Who else knows?"

"You, me, and Kirk."

That information, at least, seems to have the effect of changing the mood. Larry grunts, "Kirk. Why am I not surprised?"

"Because it's Kirk," Jon responds dryly. "He's two steps ahead, always."

"Fucking pain in our asses."

"Take pity on me. That pain in the ass is my partner."

"God, I hope you meant that in a crime-solving kind of way."

Jonathan's not certain what kind of face he makes but it's funny enough to make his deputy laugh once.

"I was joking, Jon," Larry chuckles. "We know you have the hots for his dad."

Jon stares. "Who knows?"

"Anybody with two eyes and a brain."

Why do people keep catching him off-guard? "I, uh... might have said something to you. Someday."

"Look, boss, as much as I try _not_ to imagine what two guys might do together, frankly I don't have the energy to care. I hate love."

"Love isn't bad," Jon argues, and boy he never thought he would say that in his lifetime.

Larry's answer is rather flat. "Not my experience of it."

Recalling his friend's turbulent divorce, Jon winces. "Sorry I said anything. How about I tell you what Kirk is up to instead?"

"Better."

"So two of his elf-buddies, Sulu and Chekov, the ones who pestered you all recently, are tailing our mole. The rest will show up here eventually."

"Don't they always?" comments his deputy sourly.

"Yes, they do. In the meantime, our job is to plant a bug on Jenkins. You know his schedule better than I do. When's he due in?"

"Evening shift."

Jon mulls over that. "Call him in now. I'll think up a good reason. He keeps a spare uniform in his locker?"

"We all do."

"Then don't be surprised if I spill coffee down his pants," Jon warns his friend grimly. "Once he's marked, I want to give him plenty of opportunity to make contact with someone from the other side. He needs to be on streets, alone and anxious."

Larry shakes his head, though. "We never send the boys out without partners."

"I'll find a way to take care of that too," Jon murmurs. He stands up, feeling an itch between his shoulder blades not unlike an alarm bell. How long has it been since he took his eyes off Kirk?

Larry grabs Jon's wrist by the door. Instead of offering a precaution or wishing him good luck, to Jon's surprise the man says, "It isn't your fault."

"My fault?" Jon fakes a smile. "Of course not." _I hired the guy. Why would he betray us, if not because I'm lacking as a superior?_

But those are words he cannot say to anyone, and so he buries them deep in his heart.

Larry lets him go without another word.

* * *

Kirk isn't standing by the office door. In fact, as Jonathan begins to search the station hurriedly, he wonders just why he thought he could let Jim wander out of his sight for any length of time. So, Jon feels, he isn't to be blamed when he bursts into the cell block in a panic, startling two cellmates arrested for disorderly drunkenness who have sobered enough to play cards as well as the deputy on guard duty.

"Sheriff!" cries the deputy, reaching for the weapon holstered at his side. "Are we finally being attacked?"

"No, no, everything's fine," Jon assures him while checking that the cells minus the drunk-tank are empty, only to pause at the last cell and turn upon the man. " _Finally?_ "

The deputy flushes and mumbles a response.

Jonathan narrows his eyes. "Speak up, son."

"Uh, I said I just thought with all the people who don't like you, I mean, who don't like what a _great_ sheriff you are..."

Archer sighs and raises a hand. "Forget I asked." He strides for the holding door. "As you were, Deputy."

"Yes, sir."

Upon his exit, Jon hears one of the jailbirds say to his companion, "Deputy's right, though. Sheriff in this town has got _enemies._ "

He tries not to let that thought height his paranoia.

Kirk, Kirk, Kirk. Where's Kirk? Already foolishly running headlong into the arms of those enemies?

It turns out that Kirk is in the break room of all places, watching Gunsmoke on their small television set with Matthews at his side. Jon needs a second just to accept that he isn't hallucinating.

"Hey," Jim says, feeding himself a potato chip from an opened Lays bag.

"Hey," Matthews echoes.

The pair goes back to watching Marshal Matt Dillon shoot somebody.

"Everything okay in here?" Archer asks because, really, the last time Matthews and Kirk were in the same vicinity, one had a swelling eye and the other, a bleeding lip and a bald patch.

"Yup," the men answer together.

Jon backs through the swinging door. He's nearly reached the bullpen when Larry pops up behind him like a ghost.

"You still scream like a girl," Larry remarks, his measured tone not quite teasing enough to be called insubordinate.

"Something you need from me, Deputy?"

The man sobers. "While you were having a heart attack searching for your kid, you got a visitor."

Jon thinks about pointing out that Jim isn't his kid but decides not to. "Who?" he asks.

The other man turns his gaze to the closed door of the office with SHERIFF emblazoned on it. "The mayor."

Damn but those words ought to be accompanied by funeral music. Jon laughs off his own dismay by saying, "Well, I guess I shan't keep him waiting."

"Not more than you already have." And with that sobering remark, Larry returns to the booking desk.

With no alternative—after all, his deputy is quite correct, Jon has kept the mayor at bay for far too long—Archer enters his office.

The small, nut-brown man whom Jon always thought resembled a balding squirrel sits inside flexing his hands against his chair's armrests like they might be a substitute for someone's neck. Jonathan supposes that neck Wesley wants to squeeze would be his.

"Mayor," he greets the man, "how have you been?"

Robert Wesley, chief-elected official of their college town for three consecutive terms, snaps his head around to glare at Jonathan. "I would rather know where _you've_ been."

"I'm doing well, thanks for asking." Jon takes a seat behind his desk. "How are the wife and kids?"

"Cut the bullshit, Archer," Wesley snaps. "I've got you this time! Blatant disregard for authority, unexplained absences, and now—"

Jon leans back in his chair and laces his fingers over his mid-section.

"—dereliction of duty!"

"Well I can't deny the first two, Bob, but how do you suppose the last one's true?"

Wesley leaps out of his chair in such a frenzy, Jon is surprised the man doesn't vault over the desk to attack. He lifts a hand in placation. "Whoa, calm down now."

Wesley's countenance is nearly apoplectic. One fist comes down on Archer's desk, rattling an empty mug that serves as a penholder. "The town council meeting!" the mayor shouts. "You had to be there for the vote!"

Jon honestly doesn't remember why, but he figures if he says that, the mayor will literally kill him or have a stroke. "I'm sorry," he apologizes, playing at contriteness. "An unexpected investigation has come up, and I—"

Wesley stabs a finger at his face. "That policeman is not your responsibility, Sheriff! This town is!"

The room tilts slightly. Jon draws in a breath to fortify himself. "How did you find out?" he asks quietly.

"I've got people in places you can't imagine," the man snarls. "You think you can shuck off your own duties to seek glory elsewhere? Not on my watch, Jonathan. I'll have you stripped of the badge and give it to a man fit to wear it!"

"Like who?" he counters in a steely tone. "That slob who ran against me last election? He would have gotten on his knees and licked your boots if you had demanded it, but that's what you want, isn't it?" He snorts, but the sound holds no amusement. Unable to sit any longer, Jon pushes away from his chair to stand by the window and flicks down the blinds briefly to watch at a SUV pulling into their parking lot. He continues on at last, partly in regret, partly in disgust, "We used to make a decent team, Bob, but you lost your liver somewhere along the way. Tell me, who'd you give it to?"

Wesley pales and reddens in rapid succession. "That's libel. Say that to anyone, and I'll sue you."

Jon's gaze is more scrutinizing when he turns it upon the man. "Is it true, then?"

Wesley draws back his shoulders. "I didn't come here to listen to your conspiracy theories, Archer. I didn't even come here to listen to more of your pathetic excuses. I highly recommend you attend the next council meeting. Your job depends on it. In memory of that partnership you mentioned, I've warned you." The mayor looks him over with disdain. "My last courtesy to you."

Jon smiles sardonically. "You always were sparse with those."

The man says nothing else, just turns to stomp out of the office. Jonathan catches up to him by the door.

"You should tell me if there's someone else at play here," he says. "Or have you forgotten what happened to the man who came before you?"

"That man was a fool."

"Enough of a fool to wind up dead?"

"That's your real problem right there, Sheriff. You never could comprehend who controls this town."

Jon retorts, "The people who live here do—or they should."

Wesley laughs, an ugly sound. "In a fantasy world, maybe, but in real life? Most of us are powerless until we give over to the few who aren't."

"I don't give over to anyone."

"Again," says the mayor, pulling his arm from Archer's grasp, "your problem, not mine." Then the man is gone, leaving Jon unsettled to his core.

* * *

 _Pike rapped on the door to his son's bedroom before pushing it fully open. The occupant inside barely glanced up from the book in his lap._

 _"Hey," Chris said awkwardly and leaned there in the doorway. When the teenager gave no reply, he sighed through his nose. "Jim."_

 _Jim slid down in his bed and brought his book up to hide his entire face._

 _Chris crossed his arms over his chest and this time put some bite into his voice. "James."_

 _The book tilted outwards slightly._

 _Chris pointed out, "Must be difficult to read that when it's upside down."_

 _Jim flipped his book right-side up._

 _Coming forward and taking seat on the edge of the bed, Chris said softly, "I want us to talk about what you said at dinner."_

 _"No thanks."_

 _"I'm not budging until we do."_

 _Finally the book came down as Jim complained, "You're so annoying."_

 _"Parents are allowed to be annoying." He gave his son a look of parental steel he had perfected in only a few years of being an adoptive father. "Children not so much."_

 _"Not a child," muttered the boy._

 _"Then talk to me, Jim," Pike urged. "What makes you think Una and I broke up because of you?"_

 _Faced with that frank question, Kirk dropped his gaze and scrubbed the back of his hand against his nose much like the child he claimed not to be. "Because," he told Chris vaguely, "that's how it is."_

 _Chris prayed for patience. "Specifics, son." He hesitated, asking more out of caution than genuine belief, "Did Una say something to you?"_

 _Jim's gaze snapped up to meet his. "Why should she have? She was practically on the_ plane _when she called to say goodbye."_

 _Chris deflated at the bitterness in his son's voice. "Jim..." How could he explain this to someone who had only ever been left behind by those who cared about him?_

 _The truth was, Chris couldn't offer a full explanation. If he told Jim why he let his girlfriend move to D.C. without them, Jim would never forgive him._

 _He said, "What happened between us isn't your fault. She and I came to a mutual decision."_

 _Jim sat up, then, and accused his father, "Liar."_

 _But Pike shook his head. "It's not a lie."_

 _Fire was in Kirk's eyes now. "I heard, Dad. Everyone was talking about it at the precinct._ She dumped you. _Well," snarled the kid, "good fucking riddance!"_

 _"James, language!" And then, because Chris had no other choice, "Don't ever speak about Una that way again. That's an order." He stood up. "If you'd rather believe gossip over me, that's your choice." He headed from the room, only stopping once he heard a whispered apology._

 _His heart hurt because it was his son he was fighting with, the one person he cared about more than any other, even the woman who had walked away from him because she understood, like he did, that no matter what Jim's happiness had to come first._

 _And though Jim wasn't happy right now, Chris had the wisdom of an adult to know this too would pass._

 _He sighed, turned back—and told his son a secret. "Una cried the most over leaving you. That's why she couldn't bring herself to say goodbye in person." He scrutinized the boy's change in expression. "Try to forgive her, Jim. She's still your friend."_

 _Jim asked in an uncertain voice, "Is she yours too?"_

 _"Of course," he answered truthfully. "How could I forget my Number One?"_

 _"I'm sorry it didn't work out, Dad."_

 _The soft remark brought tears to Pike's eyes. He held them back. "It's all right, son." In some ways, Chris was deeply sorry too. Following Robbins could have very well led to marriage, and maybe as husband and wife they would have done well together. He would never know, so there would always be a small regret because of that._

 _But there was no regret for his final decision or for the life he had now, and more importantly no regret for the person he had decided to love and raise as his own. One day he would tell Jim everything. For now, it seemed enough to say, "I still have you."_

 _Some of the lingering sadness faded from his child's eyes._

 _"Don't stay up too late. It's a school night," he reminded Jim, and closed the door on his way out._

 _Jim would be all right. They both would. Chris would make it so._

As the memory fades, Christopher Pike comes to awareness with a keen sense of heartache. Heartache becomes confusion. Why is he remembering that day from years ago when it bears no relevance upon the present?

The dire present, he recalls with sharper clarity, and comes fully awake.

He can barely see. The darkness, Chris realizes, is in part due to one of his eyes being swollen shut. The main reason, however, is some kind of covering over his head which blocks out the light.

He takes time simply to breathe, then begins to assess his situation. Arms and legs immobilized, bound by what feels like zip ties; the way he's curled inwards means there isn't much space to maneuver. A muffled roaring in his ears sounds like a car engine, and the nauseating stench of gasoline confirms his suspicion. The car is obviously moving. The lack of voices cinches the final conclusion.

He's inside a trunk.

His shins knock into something hard when he tries to determine just how much free space he has. Without the use of his hands, it isn't possible to remove the sack over his head or jimmy open the trunk lid. Maybe if he could maneuver his legs in front of him, and kick out, kick up...

Even if the car's moving, an open trunk and a tied-up man will catch someone's attention.

Fate isn't on his side, it seems. Just as he prepares to do his best, the car jerks, knocks him backwards, then jerks again and comes to a dead stop. The pain inspired by these unforgiving motions nearly undoes him. Swallowing bile, he tries to think of anything but pain.

Kor's men had done a number on him. Marcus too, the bastard. At some point during the assault he can only surmise that he passed out. He hurts from the beating, to be certain, but he hurts more from the betrayal and knowledge that Alex wants him dead.

 _Don't think about it,_ he tells himself. _Think only of survival._

They're taking him to Nero, or so Kor insinuated. That means the next few hours will determine whether he lives or dies.

Chris hates the fact that when he finally meets his nemesis face-to-face he won't be able to stand on his own without help, he'll be that weak. On the other hand, looking as defeated as Pike does right now could certainly lead to Nero underestimating him. If Kor is a man who believes in honor, whatever the shade that honor takes, then Kor's men haven't disabled him to the point of utter uselessness. Kor might still create the opportunity for them to overpower Nero and destroy him and Marcus.

Can he do it? If the choice is as simple as kill or be killed, can Pike kill the man he once called a friend?

The echo of Marcus's taunt comes back to him, then: _I plan to take care of his future._ Marcus, with Jim's future in his corrupt hands. And if Kirk isn't swayed to Marcus's side...

 _I'll dispose of him too._

No choice. That's what Pike's subconscious wanted to tell him through that memory of the past. If Chris can give up love for his son, he can surely give up his humanity. He _can_ kill Alexander Marcus.

Something in Pike finally settles at that thought, slots back into place. The cold reasoning of his brain has synchronized with the rhythm of his heart.

"For Jim," he whispers to the darkness.

The sound of the car's engine suddenly dies out. The interior shakes with the slamming of a door. Louder and louder grow the sounds of boots on gravel. Someone's coming for him.

Chris feels inexplicably calm as the trunk lid releases with a _pop_ , and his vision lightens.

Then the covering over his head is torn away, and Chris is forced to meet the onslaught of daylight. His captor comes into focus in short order.

Saying nothing, Marcus returns Chris's cold stare.

A second person joins Marcus in peering into the trunk, and Pike can't so easily control his expression, for this person he hasn't seen in nearly one year. The face is still recognizable, though thinner, because of the distinctive twisting blue lines marking him as belonging to Nero.

"It's him," the mercenary Ayel confirms.

"Of course," Marcus responds. "As promised."

Ayel drags the trunk lid all the way up.

" _We_ did well," Chris hears from farther away. The accented arrogance belongs to Kor, who comes into view.

"Now," Kor demands, "I want to speak with Nero." When Ayel is unmoved, Kor emphasizes, "The detective is _mine_ until then." His wide smile is far from pleasant. "Do you comprehend me, cur—or must I speak plainer so that your feeble mind might understand?"

"If I am a cur," Ayel counters, "then you are a thrice-diseased rat."

Kor's laugh is jarring; he doesn't rise to the bait of the slur. Instead he merely issues an order to someone out of sight to remove their captive from the trunk.

Chris knows better than to say anything as he is manhandled by Kor's thugs. The men cut the bindings around his ankles so he can stand, but when his feet touch the ground, his knees buckle. They none-too-gently lever him upright and bear his weight.

Damn, but he thinks he must have at least one broken rib. There's no other reason for it to be so painful take a single breath. Lying on his side, he hadn't had this much trouble.

"A meeting with Nero," Kor is saying again to Ayel, "in exchange for Pike. That was our deal."

Ayel seems to relent once his gaze fixes itself upon Chris. "Very well. This way."

As Chris is toted forward, he hangs his head partly to augment the impression he can hardly function and also because if he lifts his head, he will snap angrily at Marcus who has replaced one of the men dragging him along.

As if sensing Chris's suppressed anger, Marcus murmurs directly into his ear, "Careful, old son, careful. It isn't time to die yet."

 _For one of us it is,_ Chris thinks ruthlessly. _Your debt's come due, Alex._

And as his son had once said—good riddance.


	10. Part Ten

**Part Nine was posted two days ago. Please read it first if you have not.**

* * *

 **Part Ten**

Jenkins arrives at the Sheriff's Department about twenty minutes after he's called in. This is the first Jonathan has seen him since learning of his betrayal, and he does his best to play it cool. But when the deputy greets him with a smiling hello, the simple greeting he means to give in return becomes stilted and gruff; perhaps Jenkins will think Jon is merely having one of his bad days. Luckily, Larry does a much job of acting natural, even going so far as to make a complaint about how terrible his life has been lately, and Jenkins nods agreeably to that because everyone knows Larry never has good days anymore.

Eventually Archer grows tired of staring at the paperwork on his desk that won't complete itself, and so he begins to make the usual rounds throughout the station as if it is any normal work day. This allows him to catch their newest recruit playing Candy Crush instead of paying attention to the switchboard and the deputy usually teased for being baby-faced enough to look barely legal staring forlornly into a wallet containing only a five-dollar bill. The latter says sadly when Jon asks about that, "How am I going to buy the twenty-pack from McD's?"

Knowing then exactly what the issue must be, Jon acknowledges the young man's dejection kindly with "That would be a travesty, indeed," and hands him ten dollars to supplement the five. "Knock yourself out."

"Thanks, Sheriff!"

Jon smiles grimly and moves on, grateful he could contribute to at least one person's happiness, however momentary.

Later, Larry shoves a requisition form into his empty hands with instructions to review and sign it, and leaves Jonathan to his private contemplation outside their break room. Eventually Jon becomes aware enough of his surroundings to realize that he has acquired a second shadow. He turns around and immediately ponders over two things: first, how is that Spock magically appeared inside the station without causing a stir among the deputies and, second, how long has the man has been standing behind him watching him surreptitiously watch Kirk chat on a cell phone at the other end of the hall?

He observes, "Mr. Spock, you have a knack for sneaking up on people."

Spock raises both eyebrows. "Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

The man only tilts his head ever-so-slightly. "I see no reason why I should be insulted. My penchant for remaining undetected is in part due to your inability to take heed of your surroundings."

Jon understands very well why Leonard McCoy feels an urge to punch Spock from time to time.

Spock's gaze moves past Archer. "But perhaps it is understandable that you are distracted."

Oh yes, Jon definitely understands. Spock thinks he's a know-it-all. "Kirk does not distract me," he retorts.

"Indeed? I find him very distracting."

Jon can only stare in response.

Spock states matter-of-factly, "Though not in the manner one commonly assumes to be the case when interest is expressed in another individual. Jim is the first acquaintance to call me a friend. In time, I discovered his claim to be true. Is that not the perfect cause for distraction?"

"Well that's... fascinating is what it is, but why are you telling me?"

"It has occurred to me that Jim might distract you for similar reasons."

He laughs. "Not likely, Mr. Spock. Ask Kirk if he's my friend, and then you'll realize you are sadly mistaken."

Spock remarks, "One does not need to be a friend in order to be family."

Is Spock actually implying that he believes Jonathan has acquired a family?

Could it be true?

Jon doesn't know what to say. Lucky for him, the arrival of McCoy provides an excuse to turn his attention elsewhere, because Leonard takes one look between Spock and the sheriff and is curious to know, "What are you talking about?"

"Distractions," supplies Spock.

"Oh, you definitely qualify as one of those," quips McCoy, who then shoves a paper cup into Spock's hand. "Your water as requested, you annoying bastard."

Jon coughs. It's a good thing McCoy doesn't interpret the meaning of distractions the way Spock does or otherwise he would regret labeling his nemesis as one.

"Don't I get anything?" Jon inquires politely.

Leonard turns a clinical eye upon him. "Depends. You're laying off the coffee?"

Jon draws his shoulders back. " _Depends._ Are you my keeper now?"

McCoy's gaze sharpens even more. "If I have anything to say about it, I'll be your family doctor. Somebody needs to make sure you survive." Whatever sour mood riding the man seems to lessen all of a sudden, for he huffs and glances in the direction of his boyfriend. "Don't know why I do this to myself. Jim's already a full-time job." Before Archer can question what Jim does or doesn't have to do with Leonard watch-guarding over his health, Leonard adds dryly, "And the booze. Stay away from it." He looks around. "I bet there's a toxicology kit around here somewhere."

"Should I assist you in the search?" offers Spock graciously.

Leonard eyes the tall, dark-haired man with skepticism. "You want to help me figure out if Archer's still drinking?"

"I did agree to lend my assistance in all matters related to Jim's well-being. The health of Sheriff Archer qualifies as such, does it not?"

McCoy sniffs but says without any real heat, "Yes, it does. Fine, let's do this. For Jim."

"Indeed."

That's when Jon realizes he may have inadvertently become an additional subject in the experiment between Spock and McCoy. The objective of determining how well they can work together may not be limited solely to Jim. The very thought terrifies Archer.

He hears one of them from a distance now as the pair proceeds past the break room: "While I'm at it, when's the last time you had a good night's sleep, Spock?"

The other insists, "I require little sleep to function."

"What are you," scoffs McCoy, "a space alien!"

"Please focus your energy elsewhere, Mr. McCoy, or this conversation will become quite cumbersome."

"You'll regret saying that, you ungrateful bonehead. One day you'll _want_ me to be your doctor!"

"That is an illogical assumption. Also, highly unlikely."

"We'll see," counters McCoy, sounding far more certain than Spock.

Jon decides to make an escape because he doesn't actually have a desire to let McCoy practice medicine on him out of boredom, concern, or otherwise. Just as he prepares to duck into the Evidence Room down the hallway, Uhura strides past him to Kirk, Jim hangs up his cell phone and they turn to him expectantly.

"Oh, Sheriff!" calls Nyota too sweetly.

Damn it, why is the Evidence Room on the other side of them?

Jon gives in, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets and approaching the pair with suspicion. "What do you want?"

Kirk turns his head left and right. "Have you seen Bones or Spock?"

Uhura rolls her eyes.

"I thought they were together," Jim murmurs.

"Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde have gone off to raid one of my laboratories. Don't ask why."

Jim only says, "Oh."

Uhura nudges Kirk with her elbow. "Scotty."

"Oh," Jim says more brightly. "Scotty's in the yard working on the vehicles."

"Scott, here? Right now?" Jon turns for the nearest window.

Uhura snags the back of his jacket with another roll of her eyes. "Don't be so _obvious_. Unless you want everyone to notice him breaking into your squad cars."

That would require too much explanation to his team. Jon would like to know, "Can this device of his really override any standard tracking equipment?"

Jim seems confident. "If Scotty says it can, then it can."

So planting a bug in Jenkins's spare uniform was the right call. "Good to hear," Jon murmurs. Now that he thinks about, he had seen Jenkins stroll into the break room while he was talking to Spock and McCoy. "Excuse me."

But Jim grabs Jon's arm to stall his leave-taking, shaking his head in the negative. "We've got this covered."

Jon's eyebrows go up.

Kirk takes a moment to text someone on his cell phone.

A minute later, Spock and McCoy appear down the hall. Spock proceeds by the break room directly toward them but Leonard goes into it instead. He comes back out not long after, bearing an empty cup in his hand.

McCoy looks at Jim. "Mission accomplished."

Seconds following this pronouncement, Deputy Jenkins bursts out of the break room with napkins held to his crotch and waddle-hops to the nearest men's bathroom.

Jon grins, slapping McCoy proudly on the back. "Good work, Sourpatch!"

But Leonard is too busy eyeing his boyfriend to acknowledge the praise. "You know I don't like making enemies of the police."

"I know." Jim reaches out, taking hold of McCoy's hand briefly, squeezing the fingers. "Thanks, Bones."

Spock suggests, "Since both the deputy and his vehicle will soon be adequately bugged, should we not move on to the next stage of our plan?"

"We should," agrees Jon. He turns, whistles shrilly, then bellows, "MATTHEWS!"

In the distance, there comes a crash and a curse. Matthews hurries around the corner of the corridor leading to the bullpen, actively rubbing one of his shoulders.

"What did we tell you about leaning back in your chair, son?" Jon chastises mildly.

Matthews ignores him in lieu of staring at Kirk and the others. "What's going on, Sheriff? Why are they all here?"

"Your assignment is with Deputy Jenkins for the day."

"But it's my turn for the monthly inventory count."

Jim interjects, "This is more important—and you won't be gone long. You're going to have a bad case of—" He blinks and glances at Uhura, who smiles. "—cramps?"

"Extremely bad cramps," Nyota informs the deputy sagely.

Matthews looks at them like they've all lost their minds.

Jon ducks his head to hide a grin as Jim turns expectantly at his boyfriend.

"Bones, can we give him cramps?"

"Stomach cramps, definitely," McCoy declares. He pats a pants pocket. "Got a cocktail for that right here."

" _What_?" squeaks the deputy, finally wise enough to start sliding backwards.

Jon comes to his rescue. "Maybe that's overdoing it. Matthews can fake the cramps."

Matthews realizes they are serious about this assignment. He chokes and says, "I'll fake them."

"Great!" Kirk beams. "We'll arrange a signal so you know when to start." He holds out a hand with sincere gratitude. "Thanks, man."

Matthews shakes the proffered hand, looking a little dazed. Jon pats his deputy's back, adding the gentle reminder, "Collect your gear, son. It's going to be an interesting day," and pushes him in the direction of the locker room.

"So," Nyota wants to know, looking around the corridor with renewed interest, "who's our next victim?"

* * *

"Hey, Sheriff." Jenkins approaches Archer while tucking in his shirt into a new pair of uniform pants. "Larry said all hands on deck. What's going on?"

"You'll find out in a minute," Jon replies, waving him toward the half-circle of other deputies already inside the conference room.

Once Larry slips into the back of the room, Jon shuts the door and gives his men a long stare until a few of them fidget under the scrutiny.

"It's our lucky day, gentlemen. Most of you know Jim Kirk has come in, and probably all of you know by now that his father is the detective from the county over who went missing very recently. Jim's here because he believes his case is linked to his father's case—and there's some evidence to attest to that belief."

"What does that mean for us, exactly?" Larry speaks up.

"It means we could have the break we've been searching for, and in the process save a man's life."

The youngest deputy in the room, who has refused to meet Jon's eyes ever since Jon snapped at him for being rude to Pike, raises his hand tentatively. "I could help, sir. I mean, if you want volunteers."

 _Feeling guilty, ain't you, kid?_ Jon decides to take pity on him. "A volunteer is exactly what I'm after. Much obliged, Deputy. Larry, take him off kitchen duty. He can sit in on the interview with Kirk."

The younger deputy's countenance becomes earnest. "I'll do my best, sir!"

Jon almost feels bad for the duplicity. The boy's going to be disappointed when he realizes the interview isn't meant to happen. Jon will have to find a way to make it up to him later.

He is about to call dismissal of their briefing when Jenkins shuffles forward with an unusual hesitancy. "Sheriff, this evidence. Have you already seen it?"

Archer's heart hurts at the same time he experiences a searing of anger, but practice at controlling his emotions keeps his voice noncommittal. "I have, but I think it's best that I don't share such information until an official statement is given." His gaze skims the group. "You all will have a chance to hear the details then. Dismissed."

Larry waits until the room has emptied before approaching Jon. "Is this going to be enough?"

"I hope so," Jon replies. If Jenkins takes the bait, they're golden.

Larry shakes his head in dismay and walks away.

 _This is for Pike,_ Archer reminds himself before following his deputy. _Let the pain be worth it._

* * *

Kirk's friends proclaim to anyone who asks that they came with him for moral support. Uhura adds in the face of such curiosity, "And for protection too. Don't want _Jim_ to get kidnapped, do we?" That seems to sufficiently shut down any further questions the staff have.

Things aren't moving as quickly as Jon would like. They radioed one team of deputies to return to the station so that Jenkins and Matthews can be sent out in their place, but that also requires a small mountain of paperwork, which thankfully Larry has offered to do on Jonathan's behalf. Now, nearly half an hour after he had briefed his deputies about the faux-evidence, he finds he simply cannot keep up with Kirk's frenetic pacing while waiting for the exchange of teams.

Instead he busies himself with visiting the cell block, reprimanding the fully sober men in the drunk tank, and releasing them on a warning to seek less disruptive entertainment at night. Then he checks the locks on the weapons cabinets, returns to his office to check on Kirk, takes a water break in the canteen and then a bathroom break immediately after. Larry catches him coming out of the men's bathroom with the finished paperwork for the transfer and insists after Jon's signed it, "Enough already."

"What?"

"You're making the boys antsy, and that's on top of them already being uncomfortable with the Merry Gang poking their noses into places they shouldn't. So take a break, will you?" Larry even suggests, "A nap might do you some good."

He snorts. "Naps are for toddlers."

"Also for sheriffs who fall asleep at their desks."

Jon rubs a hand against a sore muscle in his neck from that unfortunate truth.

But Larry isn't playing nice anymore. "I'll call in that Dr. McCoy. He seemed very interested in your drinking habits as of late. Should I tell him about your refusal to rest too?"

"That's blackmail!"

"Call it what you will, boss."

Damn. Larry has him cornered and knows it. Jon lets his shoulders droop in defeat. "Fine, I'll nap. Briefly." And so, with a loud muttering about mother-henning subordinates, he escorts himself down the corridor under Larry's watchful eye to the small area converted from a storage room to a bunk room several years back. It isn't meant to be in use 24/7, but recently with most of the staff burning the midnight oil on Kirk's case, at least one person makes use of it each shift. Therefore Jonathan thinks nothing of it when the door opens and briefly highlights a large lump of blankets with boots at the end on the upper bunk bed. Stripping off his jacket, Jon hangs it over the foot board of the lower bed and sits down.

After scrubbing his face and sighing like a child relegated to a timeout, he realizes it actually is kind of strange for that blanket companion to have two sets of boots. Jon flicks on the lamp on the nightstand, then, and stands up. With one hand on the butt of his holstered weapon, he prepares to draw back the covers of the top bunk with the other.

"Don't bother," comes the muffled warning. A corner flips back to reveal one thinly slit eye and a mop of black hair.

"What in hell," Jonathan growls, "are you doing in here?"

"Sleeping. Now shut up, or you'll wake him."

Without warning, the blanket shifts around the man staring at Archer. A pale hand pops out. Sulu's tanned hand tucks it beneath the blanket again.

"Please tell me that's not Chekov under there with you."

Sulu's visible eye considers Archer for too long. "We were on surveillance all night."

"Who said you can sleep in my station?"

"Who said we can't?"

A murmur of "Hikaru?" interrupts their argument.

"It's okay, Pavel," Sulu murmurs back. "Go back to sleep." The glare fixed on Archer dares Jon to say otherwise.

With a shake of his head, Jonathan takes his hand off his gun and returns to sitting on the bottom bunk.

"The lamp," Jon's reminded, and so he flicks off the light.

After a time, he convinces himself to lay down. "I didn't see a thing," he mutters to the boards of the bed above him.

Sulu doesn't bother to reply, no doubt taking that assertion for granted.

* * *

McCoy is the one who discovers Archer sulking outside the bunk room because sweet little Pavel snores like a runaway freight train, making it entirely impossible to nap. In fact, now Jonathan's more tense than ever.

Leonard leans against the wall next to him and asks politely, "Good rest?"

"Do you really have nothing better to do than plague me, McCoy?"

"Expressing interest is hardly what I'd call 'plaguing'," Leonard counters before crossing his arms and tucking his hands into his armpits. "I thought you would want to know that the mole and Deputy Matthews finally hit the road."

Jon sighs. "Thanks. Sorry I snapped at you."

"You're forgiven. None of us are feeling our best right now." McCoy considers him. "Is this plan going to work?"

Larry had essentially asked the same thing. Jonathan still doesn't have an answer different than "I hope it does."

McCoy just nods. "So, in other news: Jim smuggled Scotty in from the parking lot. They're hiding out in your office."

Jon has to ask, "Have they set anything on fire?"

"Not yet." Jim's boyfriend pushes away from the wall. "But maybe we should check in?"

Jon can't think of a better reason to end his sulking than the preservation of his sacred space, namely, the office where he keeps his cool Sheriff's hat and a picture of a twenty-something Pike in an Academy uniform buried under Playboy magazines in his bottom desk drawer. In fact, his mood becomes rather chipper at the thought of ousting Kirk and his minion and reclaiming his territory.

Only first, he realizes upon approaching the office, he has to deal with the wraith-like figure guarding the door.

There's no time to plan an attack because that very door flies open without warning, revealing a pale Kirk and an anxious Montgomery Scott.

Spock shifts out of the way so Kirk can pass him, and Jon—followed by McCoy, Uhura, and Larry, who had clearly been watching everything from the sidelines—hurries to meet him.

"What happened?" he demands, deeply scared by how ill Kirk looks.

Leonard pushes through everyone until he's at Kirk's side. He picks up the man's wrist. "Jim, what's wrong?"

"The tracking device," Jim begins, pausing to swallow.

"It's not working," Scott explains worriedly. "There's something wrong with it."

The strength of Jonathan's disappointment startles him. "You can't fix it?"

Scott looks frustrated. "I would if I knew the problem!"

Spock inquiries, "Could the equipment be faulty?"

Scott stiffens. "Of course not!"

"No one's blaming you," Leonard interjects with a step forward. "Spock only wants to figure out where the problem is coming from."

Scott's shoulders come down slightly, and he holds up a small box-like object that in any other situation Jon would assume is a homemade bomb. "I think it's interference of some kind. Blocking this wee thing from picking up the signals."

Leonard runs a hand over his mouth in thought. Spock studies the unremarkable device in silence. Jon can't help because he doesn't have this type of expertise.

Finally, just as Kirk and Scott both begin to look defeated, Nyota cocks her head. "Monty, did you account for other transmissions? If you're piggy-backing off a frequency that isn't dedicated to this station, the signals could be blocked by other communications."

The engineer's eyes widen. "Lass, you're a genius!"

Jon's fairly certain that if he and a few other people weren't in the way, Scott would have swooned in her arms. As it is, the man has already hurried back into the office, crowing his excitement. Subsequent rattles and bangs ensue, and Jonathan fears for the office furniture. Wordlessly Jim disappears into the office too, this time followed by McCoy.

Spock tells Uhura, "Well done, Nyota," before following McCoy.

With a flip of her ponytail, Nyota cuts Jon off by the doorway to join her friends.

Jon lingers long enough to glance at his deputy.

Larry says, "Better you than me. Let me know when the tracker's working, and I'll signal Matthews as planned."

"Thanks, Larry."

"Sheriff!" Kirk's voice is raised in excitement.

"I think that means it's working. Take care of Matthews."

"Will do, boss."

Jonathan joins the crowd in his office.

* * *

Not surprisingly, Deputy Matthews has the worst case of stomach cramps in history. Jenkins sounded terrified, Larry tells them after receiving the panicked 911 call from his own colleagues, that his partner was about to perish while sitting next to him in the squad car. Matthews's acting is so convincing that Jenkins is forced to park on the side of the road and beg Larry to come meet them. Calling an ambulance is out of the question because Matthews also adds ugly tears to the mix (Larry swears he heard the sobbing in the background), claiming that death would be better than having to pay the gigantic bill for an emergency ride to the hospital.

Calmly and with a twinkle in his eyes, Larry agrees to pick Matthews up. Jim and Jon high-five each other.

But in the deputy's absence, the tension ramps up. It's the age-old game: will he, or won't he?

If there's one thing Jon knows well about Jenkins, he assures everyone, it's that the man wants to please whoever holds his leash. This tidbit they have fed him should be juicy enough to send Jenkins scurrying to the other side.

In the meantime, Scott has rigged up his device to Archer's desktop after somehow surpassing the security of the network's firewall and connected it to their GPS application which tracks the registered department vehicles in real time. The anticipation of the group heightens as Scott excitedly points out the blue dot which represents Jenkins's cruiser according to internal diagnostics. Then he overlays refresh data from his device, and a red dot appears on the screen on the other side of town.

Jonathan is shocked, angry, and anxious all at the same time.

"This guy's smarter than you give him credit for," Scott says. "He's figured out how to triangulate off the other GPS signals to skew the data of his location. You think he's in one place, and he could be in an entirely different region."

"Can we see where he's been, Scotty?" Kirk asks.

Scott's fingers fly across a keyboard. Tiny blue and red dots appear, initially creating one overlaid path across the map which eventually diverges into two separate ones, one red and one blue. When the man clicks on one of the red dots, the date and time of it becomes visible. He pats the device on the table. "She refreshes the coordinates every three seconds."

Jon points to the street intersection not far from to the point of divergence. "Larry met up with Jenkins and Matthews here."

Spock surmises, "Then the deputy waited approximately five minutes before he initiated the program which falsifies his location."

Scott stares at Spock for a second with a frown before turning to the map and muttering to himself. Not long after, he exclaims, "Four minutes and forty-nine seconds! How did you know that?"

Spock raises his eyebrows. "It is simple math, Mr. Scott."

"But you cannae tell how many dots there are!"

"Perhaps you cannot," Spock replies mildly.

Archer interrupts with "Let's focus on the task at hand, boys. Is there any way to project where he's headed?"

"Not really," Scott admits.

"Then what about an alert if he stops for a period of more than two minutes?" Most traffic lights in their town don't take more than that to perform a full cycle.

"I can set up a trigger."

"Do it," Jon tells him.

"Wouldn't it be better to have someone following him?" Leonard questions.

Nyota places her hands on her hips. "I agree. I'm going this time."

"We're going," interjects another voice.

Spock and Uhura step aside, revealing Sulu with a freshly washed face and combed hair.

Jon stares. "That's my jacket."

Sulu looks down at the jacket covering up his t-shirt. He plucks at the embroidered name of SHERIFF on the breast pocket. "You had extras."

Chekov appears behind Sulu, outfitted from head-to-toe in a slightly baggy deputy's uniform, and announces happily, "I found a badge!" And, to be certain, the kid has. The badge is pinned in the exact right spot for an officer of law. Chekov's new identity is Santos Guerrera.

Uhura suddenly looks at Jon, all hopefulness and wide-eyed innocence. "We're working for you now. I think we should all have one."

A resounding _no_ gets stuck in Jon's throat. "You're working _with_ me."

"Same thing," she counters.

"Will I have to take an oath?" Scott wants to know.

Jonathan does the only thing he can. He muses, "Well, now that you mention it..." as he strolls around Sulu, past Chekov—and quickly plucks the badge from Chekov's chest as he goes. "No." He turns to face the group. "No oaths, no badges. Unlike the movies, I can't deputize on demand," he explains to a narrow-eyed Uhura.

"Can't," she questions ominously, "or won't?"

"Kirk," Jon says pointedly, gesturing to the woman.

Jim tells her, "Archer needs time to think about it."

Jon chokes, because that isn't what he intended for Kirk to say, but nonetheless Nyota's face clears of protest. She obviously has faith that Jim will find a way to convince Jonathan of his duty.

Turning away, muttering, "I don't need a badge anyway," Scott resumes tinkering with the GPS application.

Chekov is the only one who truly appears disappointed. Sulu slides around an arm around his friend's drooping shoulders and asks, "So, can we have those coordinates or not?"

"Check your phone, lad," Scott replies.

Sulu's Sheriff's jacket buzzes. He pulls out a phone.

Uhura checks her cell phone too with an approving "Excellent." Then she informs Sulu, "I'm driving."

Jim draws a small package out of his pocket and tosses it to Sulu with the instruction, "Be careful."

Sulu nods.

As Uhura, Sulu, and Chekov make a beeline towards the exit, Jon turns on Jim. He says sharply, "You can't make me hire you."

"Maybe," is all Kirk replies, returning his attention to the desktop. "Do you think it's possible Jenkins could pick up someone?"

For a moment, Jonathan doesn't want to answer. Inevitably, he relents. "Nothing's impossible." In fact, now that he's thinking about it. "We can check the interior cameras."

"If I wanted to get away with being a rat," Scott declares, "I'd loop the camera feed."

Archer closes his eyes. "Great."

Spock queries, "Do you have an ITS which connects to the local traffic cameras?"

Jon opens his eyes. "That's a good idea."

Leonard asks, "What's an ITS?"

"Intelligence transportation system," Spock and Jim supply at the same time, then consider one another.

Spock says to Kirk, "If we cross-check the cameras with Deputy Jenkins's trajectory, we may be able to ascertain whether or not he is alone."

"The camera on the outside of the squad car could be helpful too," Jim advises. "Until we have eyes on him, any information is valuable information."

Leonard points at the map. "You might want to hurry up, then. It looks like our guy is heading out of town."

They turn as one to stare at the screen. As the red path grows ever closer to the map's edge, Archer thinks, _C'mon, Deputy, don't fail me now._

It's ironic, he will decide later on, that even then he was counting on Jenkins to come through.

After a few minutes, Jon figures he will go crazy if he continues to stare at the map so he ushers Spock from his office to Larry's desk, logging him into the computer there and bringing up the system Spock had asked about. "We can access most cams in the public domain. Not bus lanes or level crossings or privately contracted networks."

"Thank you, Sheriff." Spock takes out a smartphone that looks brand new and pulls up the same map that Scott has running in Archer's office. "This should be sufficient."

Jonathan nods and leaves him to it, thinking it will be interesting to see just how quickly Spock can parse the footage on his own. Moreau's team had been exceptionally fast compared to the usual standards.

In the office, Kirk is speaking quietly to McCoy. They glance in his direction when he arrives. Eventually Jim takes a seat next to Scott, wedging his hands between his knees and giving his full attention to the monitoring program.

Leonard asks Jon, "Want a cup of coffee?"

That must be a signal because earlier on McCoy had jumped on him about drinking the stuff. He follows the man to the break room.

"This waiting is harder than I thought," Leonard says, handing Jon a cup of water and then filling a cup for himself. "How do you stand it?"

Jon drains the paper cup, then crushes it in his hand and throws it away. "I generally don't." He crosses his arms over his chest. "I let someone else do the waiting while I ride off to the Town Hall to terrorize someone." Usually Wesley. But Jon wouldn't be able to stomach seeing the mayor after their earlier encounter.

Leonard looks into that cup of water he isn't drinking. "Jim's handling it well so far, but..."

"But what? You think he's going to go ape-shit the moment we have a hint of Nero?"

"Yeah." McCoy swallows and looks at him. "I do. But I already promised not to fight him over it. If it comes down to it, I'm going with him."

Jon understands all too well where this is going. He decides to be honest. "I haven't made up my mind yet."

"So, potentially, you're going to let Jim see this through?"

And that's the million-dollar question, has always been the question since the beginning. How far does Archer let Kirk go to save Pike?

"I can't answer you, Leonard." He sighs. "But I'll tell you this, just between us: no matter what, Kirk comes first. I give you my word."

McCoy's eyes are suddenly tear-bright. "Thank you. Thank you, Jonathan. I can't tell you what it means to me to hear that."

Jonathan nods. Maybe Leonard can't express it, but Jon knows. Confirming that Jim's life takes precedence over all else means to Leonard exactly what it would mean to Pike. That's why Jon can promise it. He doesn't want to think about a scenario where he has to choose between the two—Pike or Kirk—but if he must, there really isn't a choice at all.

Save the kid.

"Drink your water," he tells Jim's boyfriend.

Before Jon reaches the door to the break room, it flies open.

"He stopped!" cries Jim, framed in the doorway. Then Kirk's spinning around, hollering "SPOCK!" loudly enough to be heard on the other side of the station, and sprinting away.

For one breathless moment, Leonard and Jon are frozen in place. Then they take off in a sprint too, after Kirk.

* * *

Uhura, Sulu, and Chekov are five minutes behind Jenkins, who has parked in a section of town that Jonathan recalls has been slowly undergoing construction for about two years. Jim calls Uhura's cell from Archer's desk phone and talks them through the duration of time it takes to catch up.

Leonard sits next to Jim, drumming his fingers nervously on his chair arm. Spock stands behind the pair, and Jonathan has taken up a position facing Kirk from the opposite side of the desk. Scott nervously switches his gaze from person to person in the room and ever-so-often fiddles with the keyboard under his hands.

"Chekov, where are you?" Kirk asks. "Scotty, where are they?"

Scott says, "I'm showing them in range now, Jim."

Pavel's voice filters through the phone speaker with confirmation of this fact. " _Da, da! We're wery close. We are turning in ze parking lot across the street._ "

"Can you confirm a visual, Mr. Chekov?" Spock asks.

" _Nyota has ze binoculars._ " A few seconds pass before Pavel says, " _She says ze angle is wrong. We need to get closer._ "

Sulu's voice comes through, volunteering, " _I'll do it_."

Uhura reports, " _Jenkins just left the car. Sheriff, whoever he's going to meet, he's not doing it in the open. He's heading for an alley._ "

Jon plants his hands on the desk, leaning toward the phone. "Stay where you are. The moment he sees you, game over. He'll spook." _Or worse, shoot you._ Shit, why had he agreed to let these kids get involved?

Sulu's " _Kirk?_ " sounds like a request for confirmation of that order.

Confused, Jon looks to Jim.

Jim explains, "I gave Sulu a tracker in case there was an opportunity we could plant in on Jenkins's contact."

Jon's first instinct is to call off the mission completely. But he also knows this could also be their only chance to get it right, and time already isn't on their side. Pike has been missing for over seventy-two hours.

Archer makes a snap decision. "Listen carefully. One of you stays behind to keep eyes on the car and alley. The other two will circle around to the opposite side and hide there. Does everyone have a cell phone?" Upon confirming that, Jon continues, "We'll coordinate your movements. Now here's the most important part: _do not engage._ Are we clear?"

Chekov and Sulu's " _Yes, sir_ ," but Uhura's " _Acknowledged_ " leaves Archer wary.

"Okay. Who's going, and who's staying?"

There is a sudden garble of noise over the speakers—arguing. It seems nobody wants to stay in the car and miss the action. Jon catches Jim's attention and points to the phone.

Kirk sighs through his nose. "Chekov, you're in the car."

Pavel gasps. " _Zhat's not fair!_ "

"The car is the getaway. I've seen you drive. If something goes wrong, you'll get to Sulu and Uhura quicker than anyone else."

" _That's insulting, Kirk,_ " complains Uhura. " _I'm only slightly less reckless on the road than Pavel._ "

" _But, Jim, if Sulu is going...!_ "

" _Please,_ " they hear from Sulu, and Jon would extremely surprised if Sulu isn't giving Chekov the puppy-dog eyes right then.

Apparently he is, and it works. Chekov agrees with dismay, " _I vill do it._ "

" _Monty,_ " Uhura wants to know, " _are you picking up audio yet?_ "

Scott replies, "The strength of the signal is too faint. I think I could boost it with one of your phones, though."

" _You can hack mine, Mr. Scott,_ " Pavel offers. " _Do you have ze number?_ "

"Jim can give it to me."

Jim snatches up a sticky note and a pen, scribbling the number down.

Scott works rapidly to Archer's eyes, fingers flying across his keyboard and spitting out code once he has the cell phone number from Jim, but Jim is a bundle of tension and demands. "Scotty," Kirk calls for the third time, and Scott whips his head around, snapping back with sudden temper, "I'm doing the best I can!"

Leonard lays a hand on Kirk's arm, and Jim deflates.

"Scotty... I'm sorry."

"Me too," mutters his friend, returning to work. A minute later, he turns up the volume on the computer, they all hear a crackle of static and then, out of nowhere, a voice.

Jon comes around the desk to stand by Scott, listening intently.

" _Hello? Hello, is someone there?_ "

"That's Jenkins," Archer tells them. The deputy continues to call hello, his voice sounding nervous and, like before, hesitant.

"It sounds like he doesn't know if his contact will show up," Leonard remarks softly.

"He will," Jim says firmly.

Jon is not above sending out a silent prayer to any deity that might be listening.

Uhura's voice comes through the phone. " _What's happening?_ "

Jon points to Kirk to stay by Scott, and he slides the phone closer to them. "Jenkins is in position, but his contact hasn't arrived yet. Sulu, Uhura, get going. Call—" He looks up as Spock lifts his cell in the air. "—Spock. Keep out of sight."

" _Will do,_ " Sulu replies, and not long after Chekov whispers, " _Ze're gone._ "

Spock answers his phone on the first ring, puts on the speaker, and sets it on the desk.

Jon says, "Can everyone hear me?" He receives three confirmations.

"You should have just given anyone walkie-talkies."

Jon responds dryly to McCoy's comment, "I'll keep that in mind for next time. Chekov, the second you see someone come out of the alley, tell us. Uhura, report."

" _We've made it around the side of the building,_ " she whispers, " _but we're stuck. We think a car's coming._ "

Jon meets Jim's eyes. "Approach as closely as you dare but don't try for a visual just yet."

Uhura walks him through their situation so smoothly he can picture it almost as if he's there. The car parks by the mouth to the alley; one door slams. The engine's left running but there's no reflection of headlights. A shoe scraps against the pavement at one point as though the owner decides to stop and peruse his surroundings.

Uhura falls silent during that time, leaving Jon to grip the edge of the desk. Eons later, it feels like, her voice returns, less soft but much more cautious.

" _We can't hear anything now except the car,_ " she describes. At nearly the same time, Jenkins speaks through Scott's computer: " _You came._ "

"Sulu, go NOW," Jon orders with haste, and takes a steadying breath thereafter because if Sulu, Uhura, or Chekov don't make it back from this mission, Jon is certain he will never forgive himself. "Uhura, find the best position to signal him if need be."

" _This is the craziest thing I've ever done,_ " Nyota admits, but she sounds thrilled about it.

" _You should not have contacted us._ "

Jon becomes momentarily distracted by this new voice. It's familiar, somehow. A memory one recalls with hazy clarity.

Jenkins is saying now, " _I told you, I have information..._ "

A hiss. " _Did we ask for it?_ "

" _No, but—_ "

The crack of sound is fist hitting flesh. Jon isn't the only one in the room who flinches. Jim grips the back of Scott's chair with both hands.

Uhura says, uncertain all of a sudden, " _I think there's someone in the car._ "

Jon's head snaps back to Spock's phone, which he picks up. "Where's Sulu?"

" _I only wanted to—I'm sorry, please—_ "

" _I can't see him, sir. He may have tried to find another way around._ "

" _—I have information! No, don't!_ "

Jenkins's scream makes them all jump, loud enough that even Chekov curses in Russian over the desk phone afterwards at being scared to death.

Archer has gone cold inside, the alarm bells going off in his head tangling up with Uhura's whispers that she still doesn't have visual of Sulu and in the background of it all is Jenkins, weeping openly from whatever punishment has been meted out for his disobedience.

Archer puts Spock's phone to his ear and paces to the door and back, raking a hand through his hair. "Abort," he orders the woman on the phone.

" _What?_ " she cries. " _But Sulu is—_ "

" _I'm sorry, I swear! Come back!_ "

Jim jerks around at the plea, his face losing color. "Sheriff's, he's leaving!"

Jon snaps to Uhura, "Abort, damn you!"

Kirk is there, dragging Jon's arm down and yelling at the phone, "Uhura, get out of there!"

" _SHHH!_ " is the response and then, as if to make them be silent, the call goes dead.

Jon has never seen Jim so absolutely, unforgivably white before.

Jim has taken the phone, is desperately swiping through to find the call history for a redial. Jon takes the phone from him, and when Jim goes from white to furiously red, like he might hit Archer, Jonathan edges back, commanding, "Wait. Son, wait."

Kirk stares at him, breathing harshly. Jon stares back.

Jenkins's weeping has quieted to moans of pain.

Chekov whispers through the desk phone, " _Vhat happened?_ "

McCoy looks sick, Spock is frozen, and Scott is close to tears.

Spock's phone rings. Jon answers it.

" _He's gone,_ " Uhura says without preamble.

Jim's throat works. "Sulu?"

Her voice wavers momentarily. " _I-I don't know._ "

The sound of a car door slamming comes through the line connected to Chekov.

Nyota decides, " _I'm going to look._ "

When Leonard stands up from his chair, he sways on his feet. He doesn't seem to notice as Spock steadies him.

"What did we do?" McCoy voices for all of them.

Jonathan is almost too afraid to find out. He does the only thing which matters most in that moment, reaching for Jim. After tucking the kid's bloodless face against his shoulder, he holds Spock's phone up. "Uhura, are you there?"

No answer. Jonathan checks to make certain the phone hasn't disconnected.

"Uhura—Nyota," he tries again, "tell me what you see."

Someone pants heavily on the other end, as though recovering from running.

Jon frowns. "Who's there?"

" _Hewo? Oh, Sheriff! Zis is Pavel._ "

Jim lifts his hand from Archer's shoulders, turning red-rimmed eyes to the phone. "Chekov?"

Pavel cheerfully relays, " _Ve have found Hikaru! Nyota cannot talk now. She's crying and iz beating him._ "

"Oh," Jim says, sounding more like himself.

Jon allows Kirk to step back from him, looking away as Jim dries his face with his sleeve.

Jon hears the strain in his voice when he says, "Once you're done beating your friend, put him on."

Clearly that takes some time. In the interim, Jon takes the seat vacated by McCoy and rubs the bridge of his nose, hoping no one notices how he also might be surreptitiously wiping his eyes.

A voice comes through. " _Sulu here._ "

"They didn't beat you enough," Leonard cries over Archer's shoulder. "You nearly gave us a heart attack!"

"Are you okay?" Jim asks.

" _In excellent condition_ ," Sulu replies dryly. " _Uhura couldn't see me because I had belly-crawled under the car._ "

Jim's and Jon's eyes snap up and meet.

"Sulu," Jon asks, cautious yet hopeful, "did you...?"

" _Plant the tracker, sir?_ " Sulu's smug. " _Yes, I did._ "

Scott whoops and flies back to the computer.

"Scotty," Jim begins.

"Already ahead of you, Jim!"

" _What?_ " comments Sulu lightly. " _No thanks?_ "

"I'll kiss you when you come back," Jon promises.

" _Eww_ ," says Uhura.

Sulu sounds equally disgusted. " _Then with all due respect, sir, I'm never coming back._ "

" _I vill kiss him for you, Sheriff,_ " offers Chekov and, from the sound of it, does.

"Almost," hums Scott.

Everyone packs in tight around the desk. Leonard presses in close to Jim, and Jim's arm hooks around his waist in response.

On the computer screen, an orange dot appears and begins to blink.

Jon closes his eyes in relief, then opens them again with a grin. "Houston," he informs those present through the phone, "we have lift off."

" _Woohoo!_ " cheers Chekov.

"We did it." Leonard looks amazed. "Jim, we did it."

Jim smiles.

"And now," Scott says, bubbling with immense satisfaction and causing all of them to once again lean forward in anticipation, "let's see where this ugly bastard goes!"

* * *

Chris's training and years of experience as a detective have made some rituals like second nature: observe, catalog, categorize. Despite having been beaten and now dragged along like a toy with its stuffing coming out, he takes in his surroundings in several quick sideways glances. Somewhat to Pike's shock, he recognizes the area easily, for it is a private airfield he had often visited as a young man while he considered a career as a pilot. Abandoned once the owner died, the pavement of the strip has given way to patches of weeds. The aircraft hangar ahead bears the mark of harsh weather and rust, and has become the canvas for colorful graffiti. Farther in the distance, an old fuel truck with flat tires and faded paint sits at the border of the overgrown field. The field itself is long and wide, but empty, a breeze gently stirring the dying grass.

When Ayel leads their group to the back of the hangar, Chris takes note of the three black sedans parked in a line. Only one of them has the vague shape of a driver through the tinted windshield. A second man stands next to the door of the backseat, an imposing figure in his ironed suit, tie, and sunglasses. Whorls of blue are tattooed across the backs of his hands.

Ayel stops at a lengthy distance from the cars and removes a small but mean-looking blade from his pocket. Placing the blade flat against Pike's throat, he orders Kor and his men to wait where they stand.

Kor's expression has shuttered completely.

Ayel twists Pike to face the cars and lifts his chin. At the signal, the bodyguard opens the car door.

Chris forgoes the pretense of disorientation, then, because he wants to see the face of the man who nearly killed his son.

Shoes first, polished, well-made. The hand which grips the top of the car door is ring-less, has a twist of scarred flesh across the knuckles. The man himself is mostly unadorned but the quality of his attire is stylish and obviously expensive. Physically, he is not overly tall; his frame, wiry in such a way that usually belies hidden strength. Strong, angular features of the face suit the coldness of his dark eyes.

Yet nowhere that is visible to the eye does Nero have the blue markings of his organization.

Speaking with a quiet control that demands instant obedience, Nero calls to Ayel, "Bring him."

As Ayel starts forward with Pike, Kor booms more loudly than necessary in response, "Surely killing this detective has less priority than obliging an honored guest!"

Nero's gaze marks Kor, his disinterest in the man plain. "Is there a guest among us?"

Kor's temper seeps through his voice. "I should warn you, friend, that I am easily offended. And once offended, I do not quickly forgive."

Nero doesn't react right away, and once he does, it is with a slow, chilling smile. "Ever arrogant, Kor," the man concedes. "I often contemplate why it has been so difficult to be rid of you."

Kor seems pleased to hear this. "A question which will be answered shortly."

Hands in his pants pockets, Nero begins an elegant glide towards the approaching Ayel and Pike. When he stops just out of reach, Ayel does as well. Nero's attention turns toward Kor once more. "You still believe you can defeat me."

Pike feels the tension running through Ayel like a wire pulled taut; what should be the steady hand of a mercenary slips the slightest, causing a shallow but painful cut in Pike's skin.

Nero's smile falls away. "Kor," he commands, "come here."

For some reason, Kor obeys despite boasting brazenly, "I would defeat you, Nero. Such glory your death would bring me and my Brothers!"

"Among other things," Nero remarks once Kor is near to him. "Control of my territory. The opportunity to secure the source of my wealth for your own."

"Those thoughts do have appeal," confesses Kor, grinning, as he stops just slightly ahead of Pike and Ayel.

Finally, Nero closes the distance left between all four of them, and Pike sees up close that Nero's eyes are so black, it's as if his pupils have eaten away his irises.

"Kor, Kor, Kor." The chilling smile returns. "Blood-thirsty Kor. I am constantly wondering: does your kind ever evolve? You waste your days with endless brawling and petty crimes, yet are always so ambitious for more. When will you learn that real power is born from the chaos and terror of others?" He asserts, "What you are after is merely bragging rights."

Kor counters with less humor, "What I want you cannot possibly imagine."

Pike is certain neither tyrant cares that he is privy to this pissing contest; after all, in their eyes, he will be dead afterwards. That doesn't stop Chris from being shocked however when Nero looks Kor over in that dispassionate way and speculates aloud, "Your desire must be great, indeed, to betray an honorable Brother."

Instantly Kor's face closes up.

Nero tilts his head to gaze at Pike, acknowledging for the first time that Pike is there among them, albeit with a knife to his throat.

"Do not think this man has brought you here as an excuse to fight me, Detective. He is in my debt. At his request, I had Ayel kill the one they called Koloth."

The accused hisses, " _Nero_ , you dare to betray our pact?"

Chris recalls Kor driving his men into a frenzy for vengeance, claiming Marcus had been behind Koloth's death. But the truth must be that Kor simply wants Marcus out of the way. Why? Is it possible that Marcus already knows this secret that Nero so easily shares?

Chris's throat works under the knife. Quite fiercely he suddenly wishes that he had the chance to look back and judge the mystery Marcus presents for himself.

Hardly appearing offended by Kor, Nero counters, "You dare to betray the one who made you?"

Kor falls silent, and Chris senses the man is re-assessing this particular battlefield.

Finally, with a faintly bitter tone, the arrogant man caves. "Take the detective," Kor says too casually. "He has outlived his usefulness to me already."

Nero merely watches in silence as Kor retreats to his men and Marcus. His cold gaze finds Ayel afterwards. "A dog only bites the hand of its master once."

"Yes, Nero," Ayel murmurs, clearly understanding the message therein.

"Come, Ayel."

Nero pivots and returns to his car. There he tells the bodyguard, "The detective appears weak. Carry him. If he troubles you, cut his throat." Then Nero moves on to the open door of the hangar, guarded on either side by two men with shaved, tattooed heads.

Ayel releases Pike to the bodyguard but not before hissing in Pike's ear a reminder of his predicament: "By Nero's hand you live or die. Never forget this, Christopher Pike."

The bodyguard takes hold of Pike, swinging Chris over his shoulder as if he weighs nothing, and sets out after Nero.


	11. Part Eleven

**Part Ten was posted two days. Please read it first if you have not.**

* * *

 **Part Eleven**

Jon wishes that he believed Kirk and his team are satisfied at having one successful mission. Instead the fact there has been only one makes them determined to pursue _more_. In turn, Archer has to draw the line at allowing the nearly compromised but quickly rebounding Uhura, Sulu, and Chekov to take off in pursuit of the latest bad guy. He ends up in a shouting match with Kirk over it.

"We're close, and they've proven they can handle it!"

"Kirk, your friends have only proven that they're untrained and damned lucky to be alive!"

"Bullshit _,_ " challenges Jim.

Jon wants to strangle him in that moment but he has learned to curb his baser urges. "Bullshit is what I call this game of chance we're playing when real lives are at stake. From now on, the professionals will handle the 'shit' that they are trained to. Is that clear?"

Jim fumes in momentary silence before accusing coldly, "Without us, Sheriff, you wouldn't have a chance of saving my father."

McCoy and Scott gasp. Even Spock looks like he thinks Jim has gone too far, despite only recently being of the opinion that the police are miserably inept.

It's Leonard who comes to Jon's rescue. "Jim, you don't believe that. You know Archer's doing everything he possibly can."

Jon wonders if this is how a parent feels when his kid lashes out, claiming he's not good enough as a person to take care of anyone; because, _damn_ , do Kirk's words hurt. If Jim had said he hates Jon, Jon thinks it would hurt less.

But not believing in him to save Pike?

There must be something crushed about Jonathan's expression, because Jim turns his gaze away and apologizes quietly. He says in his defense, still stubborn, "We have helped you."

"Of course you have, kiddo," Jon acknowledges. "I never said otherwise."

"Then why do you want us to stop here?"

"I didn't say stop either. I said be more cautious. Kirk, remember how you felt believing something terrible had happened to Sulu?" Archer looks at each person in the room, letting them know that his words apply to them too. "Can you take responsibility once something bad happens which can't be undone? Because let's be realistic. No one succeeds every single time. Humans make mistakes, underestimate each other, even the best among us. You can lose a good soldier or a friend simply because fate is a bitch." He faces Kirk again. "You're not ready, Jim."

"How could you know whether or not I am?"

"McCoy," Jon says simply. "Send him after Nero without backup."

Jim blanches, but strangely it's Spock who steps forward in protest. "There is no reason Leonard should go."

"Imagine a scenario where he's the best candidate. Only he can go," Jon clarifies, keeping his gaze centered on McCoy's boyfriend. "Could you make that call, Kirk, knowing even if McCoy completed the mission, he wouldn't come out of it whole afterwards?"

"I'd go," Leonard confesses softly. "If Jim asked me to."

"Bones." Jim has the same look Jon remembers from only weeks ago, that deep fear of losing McCoy. Though Jim doesn't say anything right away, they can all tell he is struggling to convince himself he could make the call.

"All life is valuable," concludes Jon when it appears Jim won't answer, "which is why the most careless thing you can do is assume those asked to put their lives at risk will make it back simply because you're cocky enough to believe it. Kirk, if you are one hundred percent certain that you can accept the responsibility and consequences of placing others in danger, then okay. Send your friends after Nero."

Jim whispers, "You win," and walks out of the Sheriff's office.

Spock follows in Kirk's wake only after he has given Jonathan a long, measuring look. Leonard lays a comforting hand on Archer's arm before going after them both.

A short while later, Scott clears his throat and stares uncertainly at Archer from the other side of the desk, as if expecting orders.

Jon only has the heart to say, "Notify me when we have a destination."

"Aye, sir."

Jon wishes he could be happier about his victory but the truth is he feels guilty for breaking Kirk's confidence. Jim does have potential, the kind of potential that other men will envy and some men will try to harness for themselves. When the day comes for that potential to be tested and realized, Jonathan will gladly hand over the reins. But he can't in good conscience do it today. Kirk has yet to separate his heart from his head, and that makes him foolishly reckless.

Archer tucks away these thoughts as he seeks out the switchboard. Most of his staff by now has cottoned on to the fact that a major mission in underway. Why they aren't involved, they are still trying to figure out. Soon enough, one of them will approach him for an explanation. He has to delay that moment of truth as long as possible. Mayor Wesley has made it clear he will punish Jonathan for this investigation, and so Jon intends to be punished alone.

"Afternoon, Sheriff," the deputy manning the station's call center greets him.

He fishes a badge out of his pocket. "Try not to leave extras lying around, Guerrera." _You almost had your identity stolen by an excitable Russian._ "And get Larry on the horn."

"Sorry about that, sir." Guerrera pockets the badge with a blush and turns his attention to fine-tuning the radio. "Alpha Zero to Beta One. Do you copy?"

" _Beta One here. Boss_ ," Jon hears through the radio speakers, " _what's the word?_ "

Jon picks up the receiver. "Put Matthews on."

" _Hellooo, Sheriff!_ "

Why does Matthews sound so chipper? "Feeling better, Deputy?"

" _I appear to have made a full recovery, sir,_ " Matthews replies cheerfully. " _Larry took me out for hot dogs and chili-cheese fries._ "

"Ah, the perfect meal after a stomach illness," Jon retorts dryly. "Wrap it up quickly, boys, and report in. Got a special assignment just for you."

Larry confirms. " _On our way._ "

Jon hands the receiver back to Guerrera.

The deputy asks tentatively, "Anything I can help with, Sheriff?"

He drops a hand to the man's shoulder. "If I think of something, I'll let you know. Keep up the good work."

"Thanks."

Rallying himself, Jonathan goes in search of Kirk.

* * *

Jim has pointedly made himself scarce. McCoy intervenes in Archer's search to explain, "He's need a little time to think."

Jon deflates. "Was I too harsh?"

Leonard is sympathetic. "You said what needed to be said."

Well, so much for that notion that Kirk has started to accept him as family. Talk about the proverbial shooting oneself in the foot. _You idiot,_ Jon chastises himself. _Why do you make him hate you?_

"Sheriff?" Leonard is staring at him with concern.

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

Jon realizes belatedly he is about half a second away from crying. He squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering, "Yeah, fine. Just need some... water," and with that hastily spins around to make his getaway before he becomes an outright embarrassment.

Spock is blocking his escape. When Jon tries to go around him, Spock insists, "Sheriff, I need to speak with you."

"Can it wait?" he asks plaintively.

"Negative," and just the way Spock states that single word has Archer straightening his spine and falling back into business mode.

"Explain," Jon says, calmer.

"I decided to coordinate the new trajectory with the traffic cameras in hopes of determining the identity of your deputy's contact since neither Uhura nor Sulu were able to see him. Unfortunately the tinted windows of the vehicle made the task impossible. I then attempted to discern if other vehicles, and thereby identifiable parties, could be in concert with our target by comparing the footage of several intersections at sufficiently large intervals. This endeavor had more success."

Spock is a miracle. Jonathan is never going to tell him that. "What did you find?"

Spock's face shutters ominously, and without a word, he hands Archer his cell phone, a snapshot of camera footage on its screen.

Jon squints at the grainy image.

Leonard reaches over his shoulder and widens the photo by using his thumb and forefinger—and immediately makes a shocked noise.

Jonathan is shocked himself, just for a second. Then his brain shifts gears and starts making connections he hadn't considered before. His gaze snaps back to Spock's. "How many intersections?"

"Three intersections within the last twenty minutes."

"How far behind?"

"On average, six point three minutes." Spock adds, "Rather than continuing to explore the phenomenon, I thought it best to obtain your guidance on how to proceed."

Oddly enough, Leonard is watching Archer as closely as Spock is like it's his experience, judgment and instinct they are now firmly relying upon.

In a way, with Kirk temporarily out of the game, Jon supposes they do need his direction. "Continue with the analysis, Mr. Spock, and bring Mr. Scott into it. If this car follows the same trajectory for more than five miles, that should be sufficient confirmation of his activity."

Spock nods ever-so-slightly and moves off down the corridor.

Leonard looks nervous. "Sheriff, what does this mean?"

"Nothing good," Jon replies grimly, turning away. "I need to make a call."

Leaving McCoy behind and finding a private corner, he flips open his cell phone. Liu answers after on the second ring.

"Speak of the devil. I was about to dial your number," she says.

He offers, "Ladies first."

"You called me."

"I need a minute to organize my thoughts."

"Strange," comes the mutter. "I picked up the phone as soon as I had new information but I want to say the same thing. Here it is, anyway: Una convinced Gaius she had a lead that could help him capture Pike, so he allowed her to pursue it. She just texted me the results of her meeting with an old friend, shall we say? Something is underfoot with the local gang. A man named Kor who recently became the new leader is mobilizing his men."

Shit, Archer knows what that means. "Do you usually get involved territory disputes?"

"Frankly, no. I try to prevent them. Clear out civilians, if possible. But nothing good usually comes of sending my team into that kind of fight. In any case, we are often the last to know. But, Jonathan, there's more. Robbins's contact wouldn't give a name when she asked who is our dirty cop, but he didn't deny that one existed. In fact, he said the informant turned several years ago. Five years, to be precise." Liu's tone darkens. "Marcus went rogue after his daughter had her accident in 2008. The timing fits. And Robbins was able to confirm more: Marcus's case, the Palmetto Row robberies? They're the work of men belonging to Kor."

"A case which, if he's on Kor's payroll, Marcus never intended to solve anyway." Jon swallows twice. "That's it, then, the connection. I was almost hoping that I was crazy."

"What are you talking about?" Liu questions sharply.

"Marcus is the reason I'm calling you, Greta. He's in town, tailing _my_ lead to Nero."

Her snarl of "What in hell is he doing?" is the opening he needs to explain.

Yet he feels sick to his stomach to say it. "We know Lt. Marcus wants Pike to get caught going after Nero. Second, it was his case that Chris took on, during the investigation of which Chris disappeared. An investigation we just learned that Marcus was purposely stalling from being closed. Why? If he wanted to prevent you from finding out Kor's gang was behind the robberies, then it makes no sense that he left the case unsolved, knowing you would give it to someone who could solve it."

Liu sounds troubled now. "You're saying he wanted me to give Chris the case."

"It was the perfect lure. God knows what Pike saw while he was out there, but being on Palmetto Row created the opportunity to take him." Jon sighs through his nose. "There's one more thing to consider: the ransom note. Do you know why you couldn't figure out how it came in? Because the man who delivered it was already _on the inside_. And it wasn't Pike like Marcus would love for us to believe. We've been fucking duped, Liu."

The other end of the line remains silent for a long time. Just when Jonathan begins to worry that he's lost her—or, worse, Liu's willingness to trust him—her voice returns.

It's far from accusing. She says, "Our scenario, then: Marcus, with the help of Kor, engineered a kidnapping, starting with a series of unsolved crimes just in advance of Pike's return to duty."

Jon finishes, "The endgame is to destroy Pike's reputation by insinuating he faked his own kidnapping in order to become a vigilante—the target of which Marcus is now pursuing."

"Then what has happened to Pike?" the woman asks tightly. "Even if Marcus finds him there, Chris could easily deny the whole thing."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Jon says, voice suddenly not quite so steady. "The dead don't talk."

"I hate this theory, Jonathan."

He understands. It puts Chris's life at risk more than ever. "Whether you agree with me or not, I'm going to catch Marcus and make him tell me the truth. Count on that," he promises.

"At this point, you have my blessing. My lieutenant is in your jurisdiction, somewhere he disobeyed orders to go." She adds after a pause, "Just keep in mind our priorities—and that revenge wasn't among them."

"Relax, Captain. I'm the last person who needs that reminder."

"Shit, Gaius is coming. Talk later," the woman says tersely, and hangs up.

Jon lowers his cell phone and slumps against the wall.

Marcus is the wild card in all of this. A theory stays a theory without tangible evidence or a confession. Jon had taken the man's measure and knows that Marcus is the kind of man won't confess to anything, even if held at gunpoint. Why? Because he is a coward at heart, albeit a duplicitous, spiteful one.

Distracted, Jon steps out of his corner and literally runs into someone. That someone is Jim.

Instantly his stomach sinks. Judging by the glassy sheen of shock in Kirk's eyes, Jim has heard everything.

"Was it Marcus the whole time?"

Jon doesn't know where to begin. "Kirk..."

"Alex is really a dirty cop?"

Jon takes a hold of the man's shoulders. "Jim, I'll explain."

Jim wrenches back all of a sudden, his unfocused gaze finally clearing. "Did he take my dad?"

"It's possible."

That admission seems to be all Kirk needed to hear. He pivots and stalks away, his posture indicative of a fury so deep that Jon can't think to match it.

Jon hurries after him with growing dread, insisting once he catches up to the man, "Kirk, whatever you're thinking isn't going to work!"

"We know the destination now," Jim informs him flatly. "That's what I came to tell you. I'm going there." When he glances at Archer, the stormy look in his eyes implies the rest of the plan: _When I catch Marcus, there will be hell to pay._

This is precisely the reaction from Kirk that Archer wanted to avoid. Instead he caused it. Just when he thought he couldn't screw up any worse...

"You're not going," he tells Kirk.

Jim doesn't bother to reply, just continues walking away.

In the bullpen, Uhura leans against the booking station filing her nails. She sees Jim coming, narrows her eyes and flips her file around to hold like a weapon, and demands, "Who do I need to stab?"

Spock and Leonard rush out of Archer's office, being so Kirk-attuned that they undoubtedly just had the realization Jim is on the verge of a dangerous impulse again.

And finally, with perfect timing, Larry strolls into the station, stopping at the threshold to the room to consider the scene. Casually he orders Matthews at his back, "Block the door, Deputy."

Jon hangs back to see if someone else can stop Kirk before drastic measures are required.

Leonard is the first person to head off Kirk, his sharp inquiry of "Jim, what's the matter?" tempered with concern.

Spock takes up a position next to Kirk as Jim halts before McCoy. He twists around at the waist to study Jon briefly before re-focusing his attention on his friend.

"Bones, step aside. I have to go."

"Just because we know where Nero might be doesn't mean you have to go running there immediately," disagrees his boyfriend. "What's this about?"

Jim only says, "My dad is in danger."

Spock asks, "How do you know that Detective Pike is with Nero?"

"Ask Archer," Kirk says through clenched teeth. "Now let me go."

McCoy crosses his arms. "We're going with you."

"No." Jim presses his mouth flat. "The sheriff was right about one thing, Bones. You—all of you," he amends now that Sulu and Chekov have shown up to listen and Scott is peeking around the office door, "could get seriously hurt, and I'm not willing to make that call. I'll take the risk alone."

Oh geez, that is _not_ the conclusion Jonathan wanted Jim to come to after his speech.

A hint of panic comes into Leonard's face, and he turns to Spock with pleading eyes.

Spock changes position to stand beside McCoy. "Your decision is not rational. We cannot allow it."

Uhura, Sulu, and Chekov come together to form a second barrier behind Spock and McCoy.

Jim's determined expression wavers. "What is this?"

From where he's leaning against the closed entrance door, Matthews explains with no small amount of glee, "It's called mutiny, Kirk."

Jon lays a hand over his heart.

Kirk's puzzlement morphs into disbelief, then anger. "You can't do this."

Spock raises an eyebrow. "Clearly we can."

"I'm your friend!"

Leonard purses his mouth, "Which is why one friend doesn't let his other friend undertake the danger by himself. Jim, it's okay that you're not willing to be responsible for us. We're offering to go anyway, because we care about you."

For a moment, Kirk simply breathes deeply through his nose. "I still couldn't stand it. If you were hurt, I couldn't—Bones, I can't. With Dad already gone, I _can't_ lose anyone else."

Leonard and Spock exchange a glance.

As the outsider looking in, Jon is fully aware of what Kirk is going to attempt next, because now he's exposed his vulnerable side in order to distract McCoy, Spock, and the others, which makes for the perfect opportunity to act. So without remorse, Archer strides over to the only seated person in the room, the deputy whom he had given ten dollars, and snatches up a bulging McDonald's bag. The deputy gives a horrified cry of "My Chicken McNuggets!" and scrambles to pursue Jonathan.

Jim has edged backwards between two desks, projecting his despair with a bowed head. To Jon's eyes, it's almost a certainty that wily Kirk is actually occupied with reviewing his memory for the location of the nearest fire exit, calculating the timing of the route and also plotting how he might use the layout of the bullpen to his advantage. Six years of chasing Jim has at least allowed him to figure out when _not_ to trust the kid.

A month ago Jon would have simply called Kirk on his act and demanded he adhere to the proper authorities. But Jon has learned a new lesson in recent days: the only way to deal with Jim is to be like Jim—unexpected. And so, fast-food bag in hand, Archer takes out his gun, tosses the bag into the air above everyone's heads and shoots the hell out of it.

The smart ones duck as the bag explodes into chunks of McNuggets. The smarter ones flatten themselves on the floor to avoid becoming a target. The deputy who failed to recover the bag in time presses his face to the floor and sobs about his murdered lunch.

Kirk stands frozen in between the desks. Spock and McCoy, who had flung themselves at Jim in the interim, clutch him, shielding him from either side.

Jon cocks his head quizzically at the group. "Is everyone paying attention now?"

The remaining department staff who have dared to find out what the hell is happening fill up the nearby arches and doorways.

With an unusual strain, Spock states, "You discharged your weapon in an enclosed area."

"Around people," Leonard adds in horror.

"As someone once said, time to skip the hunt and tree the prey," Jon explains mysteriously. "Kirk, running to the back exit is not the answer."

Jim looks less guilty than he does curiously surprised. "How did you know?"

"I know all your cues."

Leonard lets go of his boyfriend in order to yell at him. "You were going to do what?!"

Now Jim does look guilty.

"Did you mean anything you said?" McCoy snaps, livid at being tricked.

"Of course he did," Jon responds on Kirk's behalf. "But it wasn't going to influence his decision, which he has already made."

"Then why do you keep trying to stop me?" Jim challenges Archer.

Jon looks thoughtful. "Good question." He flicks the gun's safety on again and places it in the holster beneath his jacket. "The answer would be: we had a deal."

"A deal," Jim repeats, eyeing him with wariness now.

"Partners, remember?" Jon informs all of Kirk's ridiculously loyal gang of friends, "Kirk isn't going alone. I plan to be with him."

"Knew it," Nyota announces smugly.

Jon ignores that. "Larry, Matthews, you're my ground team."

Spock wants to know, "What about us?"

Ah, the hard part. "There's one little detail you all forgot. I'm in charge, not your friend—and I agree with him. This mission is too dangerous for you." He looks the rapidly reddening McCoy in the eyes. "I've made my decision."

Leonard explodes, "You're letting him go but not us? OVER MY DEAD BODY!"

"Mr. McCoy," Spock says too calmly as Kirk flinches and murmurs, " _Bones._ "

Leonard turns on Spock. "Why the hell aren't you angry!"

"It is futile to feel anger over a decision that we cannot change."

"But you said you'd help me. I told you I needed you!"

Jim looks between them.

"Leonard, have I yet gone back on my word?"

Leonard's forehead creases—and his scowl slowly dissipates. "Oh," he says, and then with more tranquility, "All right. We won't go."

Jim is still looking between them, frowning. "Bones, did you just agree with Spock?"

McCoy does not answer.

Spock tells Archer before Jim can ask more pressing questions, "You may go now. We have no plans to stop you."

Nyota hops up on a desk, filing her nails once again. "None at all," she echoes.

Sulu and Chekov wander too casually back to the break room. Scott appears to be muttering to himself while he packs up equipment inside Archer's office.

And that, Jonathan sighs to himself, is exactly what he fears. But since there isn't anything he can do short of locking these crazy people up to protect them (and he _does_ consider that option for a brief moment), he only shrugs with feigned ignorance and takes Kirk in tow. Larry and Matthews wait a heartbeat before following.

* * *

The coordinates stored in Kirk's phone lead them down a country road with fewer houses and more woodland the farther out it goes. Eventually the woodland clears to a wide stretch of overgrown field. Jon passes the turn for a paved road in lieu of using an uneven dirt road about one mile farther along, radioing his advice for Larry and Matthews to do the same. Then he parks sideways by a rusted gate and cuts off the engine of his truck.

"What is this place?" Jim asks, peering through the windshield in a squint.

Jonathan is too busy scouting the structure in the distance through his binoculars to reply right anyway, so only when an impatient Jim reaches for the passenger-side door handle does Jon remember how dangerous it is to ignore him.

"Stay in the truck," he orders, snapping his head around to glare.

"No," Jim argues politely.

Jon sighs and drops the binoculars to his lap. "This is a private airfield by the northern border of the county." The only times he has been out this way is to break up the late-night bonfires of trespassing teenagers, although not in recent years. The property had supposedly been sold by the firm managing it to a corporation specializing in emergency aircraft services. It's strange to Jonathan that the place still looks abandoned.

However there is also no denying if the new owner has yet to make use of the airstrip that is the perfect spot for a clandestine gathering.

He reaches into the back seat, pulls out something and dumps it in his companion's lap. "Put this on."

Jim holds it up, eyes widening.

Jon asks gravely, "Do you know how to, or should I help you?"

"I know," Jim assures him quickly and takes off his coat to don the bullet-proof vest. "When I used to hang around the precinct after school, some of Dad's friends would let me try on their gear." Once the vest is properly secured and Kirk's jacket hides it, Jim points to the holster visible through Jonathan's unzipped jacket. "What about that?"

Jon's "No" might be a little too cutting but he softens the impact by reaching into the back seat again and offer up another item. This one he hands to Jim with more care. "I hope they taught you how to use this."

"Yes, sir." Jim turns the taser over in his hands. "This means I'm coming with you, right?"

Jon sighs through his nose and stares at the steering wheel for a moment. The unmarked cruiser pulling up behind them belongs to Larry and Matthews, whom he can see suiting themselves for the mission ahead through the rearview mirror when he glances up.

"Kirk, I'm only going to tell you this once so listen up. You are _not_ to engage anyone. Not Nero's men, Nero himself, or Marcus if the bastard is here. That weapon in your hands is for protection only. If someone comes at you with the intention to harm, stun him then run like hell. I'm hoping it won't come to that, though. You're my lookout today, which means you keep tabs on any movements and report in. _That_ means staying at a distance." He looks to Kirk, then. "No matter what you think, you are not trained for this situation. This is a real-life scenario, son, and a bullet-proof vest doesn't mean you will live through it. Moreover, I can't go in, catch Marcus or help your father if I'm constantly checking over my shoulder for you."

A moment passes before Jim nods. "Understood."

Jon reaches over without thinking and runs his hand across Kirk's head. "I let you come this far because I trust you to protect what's most important— _you_." Taking his hand away, he teases lightly, "I can tell you from experience, Kirk, that's not an easy job."

Jim's mouth quirks. "I'll try my best, sir."

"Good to hear. Let's do this."

They exit the truck in time to face Archer's two somber-looking deputies.

"Larry told me what's going on," Matthews says. He looks at Kirk. "Don't do anything stupid."

Jim doesn't appear to take offense to that. "I won't."

"This is our plan, gentlemen, so listen up. Kirk is lookout. Larry, give him your radio. He's keeping eyes on our backs. Matthews, stick to your partner like glue."

Matthews rolls his eyes. "I don't need protecting, Boss."

"No, but Larry does. I'm pretty sure the last time he took part in a hostage situation was in 1972."

"Fuck you, Archer," snarls Larry. "I wasn't a deputy until '75."

Matthews's and Kirk's eyes pop out.

Jim whistles, fascinated. "You're old."

Jon snickers.

Larry crosses his arms over his chest, his expression dour. "I can still get the job done. But what about them?"

Jon drops his head forward in dismay before turning to address his other problem. "Come out of there, you two."

Like a summoned apparition, Spock appears at the edge of the undergrowth. McCoy falls out, cursing.

Kirk skips past surprised and goes straight to furious. "You shouldn't be here!"

"We didn't stop you," McCoy points out.

"We followed you," adds Spock.

"And the others?" Jon asks.

Kirk's head whips around to stare at him.

"Guarding the primary road in case someone attempts to elude us." Spock says with more delicacy, "We decided you would be less likely to protest our participation if some of us remained as backup."

"Too smart for your own good," Jon decides. "No matter, I accept your help."

"No!" shouts Jim.

Next to McCoy, Spock lifts an eyebrow. "If you raise your voice by another decibel, you shall attract unwanted attention."

Kirk is obviously grinding his teeth. "Spock, I thought I could trust you."

Leonard gets angry. "You're one to talk, Jim. What's the point in calling us a team if we can't be with you when you need us? Stop being so blasted pigheaded! And don't 'Bones' me!" he snaps when Kirk opens his mouth.

Jim presses his mouth flat in unhappiness.

Jon, Larry, and Matthews pretend somewhat uncomfortably to not be listening.

McCoy stalks toward Kirk, stab his finger just shy of the man's collar bone. "I'll be damned if I let you cut me out again, you hear? You go, _I go._ "

"We go," Spock amends.

A muscle in Jim's jaw ticks. "I said no."

"You're outvoted." Leonard turns his fiery gaze upon Archer. "Jim had better be wearing a bullet-proof vest."

Jon clears his throat. "He is."

"We need them too."

Before Archer can respond to that, the sound of a slamming car door draws his attention to Matthews, who comes back from the squad car with a vest in one hand, which he tosses without comment to Jim's infuriated boyfriend.

To a betrayed-looking Kirk, Matthews only says, "We're losing time by arguing."

Jon couldn't have put it better himself.

Jim draws a breath—and his shoulders come down. "Fine." He asks Jon, "Lookout is a safe position, right?"

"Safer than most," Jon replies.

"Bones, Spock, you're with me."

Would anybody laugh if Jonathan did a happy dance right then? If Jim can't stop Spock and McCoy, he's going to protect them even if it means staying out of the action himself. Jon really, really couldn't be more thrilled.

Maybe he sounds too cheerful when he rubs his hands together and says, "Then if there aren't any more quest—"

Jon is rudely interrupted by "No, _you_ put it on!"

Leonard isn't paying attention in lieu of trying to force the vest into Spock's hands.

Spock rejects it. "I insist you wear it, Mr. McCoy."

 _Oh god_ , thinks Jon. _Here we go._

"I'll have one," Leonard counters. "Somebody get me another vest! Spock, damn you, _take it._ "

"Negative," insists the dark-haired man.

Jon suddenly recalls an unfortunate fact just as Larry interrupts the arguing pair, "Each vehicle only carries one spare vest. One of you will have to do without."

Each clutching an end of the vest, Spock and McCoy freeze, as does Kirk. Then with sudden strength, Spock thrusts the bullet-proof vest at McCoy as Kirk steps up to McCoy's other side. In tandem, they begin manhandling McCoy into the vest.

For only a handful of seconds, Leonard gapes like a fish before outright trying to fight them, and not quietly either. Jon snorts softly at the scene and sidles around his truck from sight. There, he begins to strip off his jacket.

Larry comes around the side just as he detaches his vest. "Jon—" The man pales. "What are you doing?"

Jon hands the vest to Larry. "I was carrying an extra."

"You won't have a fucking vest!" Larry spits, inexplicably angry. "Fuck that, this is a potential gunfight, you idiot!"

Jonathan is glad he has the kind of authority that Kirk doesn't. "Deputy, shut your mouth and give them the damn vest. Like Matthews said, we're wasting time." When Larry looks like he is considering punching Archer in the face instead, he says in his best sheriff's voice, "That's an order, Deputy." Then he finishes zipping up his jacket and moves to the end of the truck to find Matthews leaning there.

"They got McCoy in the vest," Matthews updates him, amused. Amusement becomes surprise when the deputy notices what Larry has in his hands. "Hey, where did you get that?"

Larry shoves the vest at Matthews, sounding truly pissed as he explains, "Archer had an extra."

"Oh, thank god," declares the younger deputy, "because now McCoy says Spock can't go without a vest, Kirk agrees, and Spock is calling bullshit. Listening to those three drives me bananas!"

Larry gives Jon one last, slashing glance before turning around the truck. Matthews goes with him.

Jon uses the moment alone to run fingers through his hair, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable without the thick padding of the vest secured against his chest. Well, it can't be helped, he decides. He made the right choice. Kirk and his friends shouldn't be here at all, granted, but since Jon can't prevent the unstoppable, he should at least prepare his charges for the fight to come.

"Let's get this done, Archer," Jonathan pep-talks himself. Find Pike. Get out. And don't get shot.

If luck is with them today, they'll survive.

His team, one-half appointed and the other half self-appointed, waits for him when he steps onto the road. Matthews is checking and re-checking his weapons; a sign of nervousness but also of willingness to do his duty. Larry has a pair of binoculars trained on the hangar in the distance.

Kirk faces the same direction as Larry, chin slightly lifted, that odd calm about him which Jon now recognizes. He feels it too, after all: the certainty of knowing he has reached the point of no return.

Only the courageous dare to go forth.

Perhaps sensing Jon watching him, Jim turns to meet his gaze.

"Ready?" Archer asks.

"Yes, sir," Kirk replies and heads for the gate.

* * *

Nero is such the opposite of Kor in personality and mannerism that Chris fully expects to be dumped in a corner and forgotten until Nero can be bothered to remember his existence. However the bodyguard carries him up a steep flight of steel stairs to the landing of the hangar's office and leaves him standing there. Chris is actually at a loss of what to do next. He looks over the railing to see Nero standing directly below him having a leisurely conversation on a cell phone. Beside Nero is his right-hand man Ayel, who stares unabashedly back up at Pike, arms folded but his knife still plainly visible. It's as if he's silently daring Pike to make a move.

Chris leans his forearms against the railing, links his fingers together, and adopts a neutral expression to mirror Ayel's.

The man's dark eyes narrow in cool speculation.

This is the oddest captive situation Chris has been in. After giving himself a moment to acknowledge the dread creeping up his spine, he tucks away the useless feeling in lieu of a clinical detachment, taking note of his surroundings.

There isn't much left inside the hangar: a large peeling poster of a fifties advertisement for Camel cigarettes, a rotting pile of airplane tires, several stacks of dusty, broken wood pallets, nesting pigeons in the rafters. How often does Nero use this place? And for what?

He is also curious to know what lies in the office behind him, but it obviously would be a bad idea to take leave from where Nero's men had placed him.

After a while he closes his eyes, hoping to gain some semblance of rest, but without sight, his other senses become more attuned to the activity below and keeps him on edge. He opens his eyes to the sound of footsteps on the stairs, from both the return of his dread and relief from his own unpleasant imagination.

Turning his head, Pike tracks the progress of Nero's approach. Nero is in the middle of the line, with one man in front of him and two behind. There isn't much to tell the thugs apart, for they all conform to the same dress code, shaved heads, and stoic countenances. All that varies is the placement and design of each man's blue tattoos.

Had the men who beat up his son looked the same?

Fury flashes through Pike, then, bringing with it clarity to his thoughts. He straightens up and steps back from the railing, his gaze centering on Nero.

"Thank you for your patience, Detective," Nero says like a man who finds pleasantries tedious. Once on the landing, he gestures to the office. "Shall we?"

"After you," Chris responds evenly.

"A courtesy. How thoughtful. However, understandably," Nero bares his teeth for a quick moment, "you will go first."

Pike makes a show of limping to the door of the office. It isn't locked, and he walks inside. There is power to the building, it seems, because when he flips the light switch, the room's overhead light fixtures turn on after a few seconds of undecided sparking.

"You own this building," he guesses.

"Yes," Nero replies. "Or rather, I am associated with the shell company which purchased it."

"You clearly don't have much use for it," Chris comments while he watches Nero casually remove a handkerchief from an inner suit pocket and wipe a clean spot onto a dusty desk. Then Nero leans against the desk there, handing his soiled handkerchief over one of two men who had accompanied him inside. The third henchman remains outside the door.

"You have questions. Ask."

Pike doesn't like this type of generosity. It means Nero assumes whatever knowledge Chris gains will ultimately not matter.

Well, if Chris is going to die in the end, then he only wants to know one thing.

It takes a second to force the question from his mouth. "Why Jim?"

Nero's eyelids drop to half-mast. "Of course. Your son Kirk. Why did I have him beaten, or why did I let him live?"

Pike clenches his fists, causing the men on either side of Nero to snap to attention. The look in their eyes implies he is in for a messy death should he be stupid enough to try to attack.

Chris forces himself to breathe. Three deep breaths later, he is able to relax his hands.

"Both," he orders in a clipped tone.

Nero's dark-eyed gaze studies him for some time before complying, and only then, does he begin with "There is one other question you like an answer to." A mirthless smile curves the man's mouth. "Why not you?"

Yes, that is a valid question. Chris sees no point in denying it.

Nero answers, "I had Kirk beaten for attempting to spoil my plan. I drew the line at killing him because he did in fact succeed at it. There were others I could have chosen, of course. The engineer who defied me. The ones who worked with Kirk. Or you." His gaze sharpens. "The fool who encouraged them to reveal the truth. I asked myself: which is the greatest sin?"

Chris flattens his mouth into a thin line. "The one who sinned is you."

"Sin is a matter of perspective, Detective." Now Nero considers him with something akin to anticipation. "Should I tell you whom I picked?"

Chris is so angry he thinks he must be trembling with the force of it. "I know who. My son, you asshole!"

Nero laughs, a short burst of sound which dies almost as soon as it occurs. His eyes are icy-cold as he pushes away from the desk. "You sinned the most." He glides toward Chris, a soft snarl building. " _You_ , Christopher. One failed plan is nothing. I can seed more terror. I can end more lives. But I _cannot_ retract the moment you released my identity to the public. That is your greatest sin, your debt to me, for which you should know you have only begun to pay back."

Chris understands—finally, truly understands. Nero chose to hurt Jim in order to hurt him. Nero will continue to terrorize and punish those Pike holds dear until Pike is sufficiently repentant.

Is it possible to reason with this man? Or should he try his damnedest to destroy him?

"There it is," Nero says. "The recognition. The comprehension." He circles Pike, whispering silkily, "I would enjoy it if you fell to your knees and begged for forgiveness."

"Groveling wouldn't make a difference," Chris says with certainty. "You enjoy breaking people too much."

Nero pauses, leans in to say by his ear as if sharing a secret, " _I live for it._ " He steps back, adding in a more detached tone, "Suffering is one of life's greatest teachers, and I, the greatest teacher of all."

Chris can't respond to that, isn't certain if a sane man should know how. Nero is not simply cruel and unfeeling; he is unhinged.

"I believe I shall impart to you my latest plan to secure your suffering," Nero continues on. "It begins with someone who has been a thorn in my side for—"

"Nero, NERO!"

The yells accompany sounds of commotion in the hangar.

Nero turns, tense and clearly annoyed to be interrupted. "Whoever that is, kill him immediately."

Chris had recognized the voice. "It's Marcus," he clarifies for Nero's benefit.

"Marcus," snarls Nero. Then, more calmly, "Ah yes, Kor's rat. Another worthless individual."

Chris raises an eyebrow. "Actually he's a supply of information you likely couldn't come by so easily. I would have thought a man like you would consider that useful. Yet you can be rid of him on a whim?"

Nero seems to take this advice seriously. "You are correct, Detective. I may have dismissed his usefulness out of turn. Bring the man here."

One henchman hurries away to relay this new order to the partner who is already en route down the stairs to dispatch Marcus.

Chris grimaces, not very pleased with himself that his first instinct was to prevent Nero from killing Alex.

Nero distances himself from the doorway as Marcus is ushered through it and allows silence to linger a while in the room before speaking. "You are trespassing on private property. I am inclined to have you buried on it. Why should I let you live?"

Marcus seems to think his concern takes priority over Nero's ire. "You let Kor walk away. Why?"

"Only a fool greets his grim reaper with insolence instead of remorse," cautions Nero too softly.

"You didn't take care of Kor, and he's coming back, Nero," Marcus says. "You should concern yourself with that."

But Nero doesn't, offering hardly more than an unappreciative "What is it that you want?"

"I offer you a proposal that could benefit us both."

Nero considers Marcus from head to toe as though uncertain if Marcus is the kind of bug which is fascinating or disgusting. "A proposal. Very well," he says at length, cold as ever. "I understand, Lieutenant. You dearly wish to be rid of the ties which bound you to Koloth, whom you hated, and now bind you to Kor, whom you hate more. But that doesn't require me to take an interest in you."

"I'm offering you my services. I'm saying I'll work for you!"

Nero's upper lip curls. "I only accept those who can be loyal."

"I can be loyal!"

"Your actions speak otherwise, and I don't have the patience or inclination to retrain you. Throw him off the landing," Nero instructs his henchman, turning away.

Marcus jerks forward when Nero's man twists his arm behind his back. "Listen to me, Nero. This could work for us!"

Nero continues to talk without heeding the plea. "If he survives, let him crawl back to his master."

As Marcus is forced backwards, he shouts with a desperate fury Chris has never heard from him before. "DAMN YOU, I GAVE YOU PIKE!"

Nero stills, for the first time appearing truly caught off guard. After a moment, Chris watches him raise a hand and turn around. The man dragging Marcus over the threshold to the office freezes.

Nero advances on Marcus swiftly and demands, eyes alight, "Speak."

Marcus stumbles in giving an explanation. "I organized it, the whole thing, start to finish. You wanted Pike so I caught him for you. I would have killed him, or talked Kor into doing it, but I waited to see what you would want to do. The only reason I used Kor to deliver him is that I knew you wouldn't answer a message from me. I can kill Pike now for you if you like."

Something in Marcus's explanation doesn't satisfy Nero, for he leans back and slips his hands into his pockets. "You would kill this man if I asked."

It isn't a question, but Marcus doesn't seem to catch that. "Yes! Just say the word," he insists.

"Worthless, as supposed," concludes Nero too softly.

Listening to Marcus speak freely of murdering him, Chris is sick, furious, and in pain. He realizes belatedly that Nero has turned around to stare at him.

Nero speculates, "This hurts you." Then he laughs in the same abrupt way as he had before and withdraws one of his hands from a pocket to reveal a key. To the man holding Marcus, he orders, "Leave the Lieutenant here."

Marcus, now thrown roughly aside, barely manages to catch himself against the desk.

Nero glides over the office threshold and says to them just before he closes the door, "Perhaps this is the perfect opportunity for old friends to catch up."

Chris hears the snick of a lock. One of the Nero's men takes up a position outside the office, visible through the long window pane next to the door.

Marcus straightens up, saying incredulously to himself, "He didn't believe me."

In that moment, Chris wants nothing more than to lay out Marcus with a hard punch. But he can't start a fight which he isn't capable of ending. Marcus isn't injured or physically exhausted like he is and would undoubtedly win.

Marcus places his hands to the door, still suspended in disbelief. "He's going to kill me."

Bitterness swells up in Pike. "And that's not how you imagined this little scenario playing out, is it, Alex?"

Marcus glares back at him. "Shut up."

"Why should I? Truth be told, I was astounded by you just now, kissing his ass that way. You know you're only trading one leash for another."

"Fuck you, Pike. I'm out of options!"

"I know," Chris counters coldly, willing to twist the proverbial knife a little deeper. "You must have never imagined your revenge would bring you as low as this."

Marcus spins around and starts toward him with a growl.

Chris offers the man the same humorless smile Nero had given him. "Hurt me if you like. It won't change a thing."

Marcus stops, nostrils flaring, but backs down.

Eventually Chris's fury subsides enough that he can leash it. Moving carefully to the desk, he tries a chair that wobbles precariously but in the end bears his weight. After a while it becomes boring to watch Marcus pace the confines of their prison, looking for another way out.

But Marcus obviously doesn't believe his preoccupation is pointless. He accuses Chris, "Why are you just sitting there? We need a plan. An escape. Damn you, Christopher, get off your ass and help me!"

Chris just smiles at Marcus's gall. "No," he says succinctly. "I would rather die."

Marcus is taken aback by that, staring at him in a different way than before. Chris sees the moment Alex understands; Chris is willing to do nothing if it means Marcus meets death with him.

"You're no different," the man says to him at last, flatly. "You're caught in it too."

Pike dips his head in the barest of acknowledgements, though he reasons his choice as "At least I'm willing to pay the price for my actions. You were too much of a coward for that. How else did you end up here?"

"Of course. Honorable Christopher Pike to the very last," his old mentor sneers in disgust.

 _Not so honorable after all,_ thinks Chris with a touch of sadness.

Marcus turns away, back to the door and to his desperation to live, allowing silence to lengthen the chasm between them.

Chris folds his hands on top of the old desk and waits for his tragic end.

* * *

 **Truth #1: This was supposed to be the last chapter before the epilogue.  
Truth #2: I was too nervous to write the showdown, so the next chapter is the last chapter before the epilogue.  
Truth #3: More than one person is going to die. Now we can all be nervous together!**

* * *

 **ETA: This week RL has conspired to keep me too busy to focus on fanfiction. I am afraid of doing a disservice to the climax of the story, so I am holding off until I can give it my full attention. This weekend, I hope! Please stay tuned, and I apologize for the extended wait.**


	12. Part Twelve

**Did you think this wasn't coming? Did you believe we would never see the end? I did. So let's just say I have mixed emotions about everything, and that made it more difficult to put this chapter into words.**

 **Before you proceed, consider these very serious warnings:**  
 **-There is violence herein. Guns, knives, people hurting people. Bad guys not repenting.**  
 **-There is death, and in the spirit of the above warning, it is not peaceful death.**  
 **-There is action. Too much of it, really, so I recommend reading this chapter at a time when you will have no interruptions.**

 **All that said, onto the story!**

* * *

 **Part Twelve**

Archer calls his team to attention one last time at the gate. He wants to make certain there is no misunderstanding of what needs to happen and who should be taking those risks.

"My birds in the nest," he says, pointing at Kirk, Spock, and McCoy. "Think of it like this: you're too young to fly. If you fall out—" He smacks his hands together. "—you're done for."

McCoy looks less than pleased with this analogy, Spock seems to think Jon is a fool, and Kirk is curious, just like the baby bird planning to test how far he can lean over the edge of the nest without toppling out.

Jon sighs. "The nest is there," he proposes, indicating the hangar's north side. "My guess is that ladder runs up to the rafters."

"Rafters?" repeats Leonard, alarmed.

"A good vantage point for lookouts," remarks Jon, "but if you can't find an inconspicuous corner up there, retreat to the radio tower. I'd rather have half the intel than all of it at the risk of you three being exposed."

"Perhaps one of us could scale the roof," Spock suggests.

Leonard gasps. "Are you out of your mind? You'll get yourself killed!"

Spock arches an eyebrow. "I am certified in rock climbing."

"And I'm certified in recognizing reckless idiots!" retorts McCoy. "Fine, go up there on your own. See if I patch you back together afterwards!"

Jim lays a hand on his agitated boyfriend's arm. "We all will be careful, Bones."

Leonard crosses his arms and glares at everyone in silence.

Jon thinks McCoy has brought up a good point. "Speaking of patching people up, McCoy's our first responder for medical emergencies, but he isn't a substitute for an actual paramedic. Most wounded, first out. I don't drill you in fireman carries for nothing. Your partner takes a hit, get him to safety."

Jim raises a hand. "You didn't drill _us_ in fireman carries."

Jon eyes him. "Dragging works too."

"Lovely," mutters McCoy.

"Spock, you're Kirk's second-in-command." Jon stares hard at the dark-eyed man. "Do you understand what I mean?"

Spock inclines his head ever-so-slightly. "I believe so, Sheriff."

McCoy must understand that unspoken objective too, because he makes no protest, just says to Spock, "Good luck."

Jim is the one close to scratching his head. Jon could tell him that second-in-commands don't simply follow orders, they question orders which aren't rational and, moreover, oversee the safety of the leader giving those orders, but since second-in-commands work best on the sly too, Jon keeps his silence.

"What are you going to do, Sheriff?" Jim asks.

Jon sobers, contemplating the tiny figures in the distance moving to and from the hangar. "Because we're here based on only a hunch, this is low-level reconnaissance. Do you know what that means, Kirk?"

"Surveying enemy territory."

"Exactly that," he agrees. "No engagement unless a life is in danger—or when I call for it. Just observe and move on. If there's to be a fight, I want them to bring it to us. Even then, keep in mind those of us standing here are the only reinforcements available, so don't push where you can't win. Larry, do you see those overturned trailers to the south? You and Matthews head that way. Circle until you see a way in that won't require discharging a weapon. Go now," he commands.

Larry and Matthews slip around the crooked gate and jog through the treeline, keeping themselves hidden.

Archer turns to Kirk. "What's your approach?"

Jim looks slightly surprised that Jon is willing to ask. "We can cut across the treeline to the radio tower and take our first survey there. The control room sits higher than the hangar. If the way looks clear, we'll proceed to the north side."

"I'm worried, Jim," says McCoy. "Isn't that side where they would bring in the planes? It must be open to the outside."

"And as such would be guarded more scrupulously," Spock adds.

Kirk nods. "If they're watching from the inside, it's likely we can make it without being seen. If not... We would need a distraction." His calculating gaze studies the landscape. "I don't know what yet."

Jon suggests, "You can always turn on something in the radio tower and make a run for it when they're curious enough to investigate."

Kirk's eyes light up. "Yes, the tower!" He turns to Spock. "Spock, what are the odds the control room is still connected to the equipment in the hangar?"

"I can extrapolate that answer once we have access to the booth, Jim."

Jon says, "You have the basis for a plan, then. Make it work, Kirk."

"Will do, sir."

Spock focuses on Jon. "Sheriff, it is clear you intend to proceed alone, which may work to your advantage in infiltrating at the ground level. Mr. Scott was able to obtain the blueprints to this building arrangement once the coordinates of our destination became clear. I believe the docking bay facing us could very well be the least guarded entrance. The height of the grass ahead suggests no one has made use of it in quite some time."

"I'm impressed," Jon says warmly, "and I accept that recommendation, Mr. Spock. One point, though, to all three of you: always assume the unexpected is as likely to occur as the expected. If I take the dock, it will be with the expectation someone has to be incapacitated."

"That's smart," Jim says.

"Of course—because stupid can lead to dead." Archer removes his gun from its holster. "It's time. Weapons in hand, gentlemen."

Kirk holds up his taser. Spock flicks his taser on and off to verify that it is operating properly. With a grim slant to his mouth, McCoy hugs a first-aid kit to his chest which he must have pilfered from one of the vehicles.

Jon can't help it. He grins. "I think Sourpatch is the most dangerously armed."

Jim looks at his boyfriend with undisguised affection in his eyes.

"Ready as I'll ever be," mutters McCoy.

"Go," Jon orders.

It's with a mixture of pride and fear that he watches the trio slide around the gate, Kirk in the lead, and disappear north through the treeline. After a minute, Jon heads out by himself.

* * *

Ahead of him, Archer spies his two deputies already drifting past the trailer yard towards the main road and small paved parking lot in front of the hangar. He veers at another angle when he hits the yard, using the half dozen abandoned trailers for cover. Some of them sit askew, open to the environment and any of nature's beasts which wish to make a home there; others are still sealed tight with rusting chains and padlocks. A short distance away, an old burnt and blackened oil drum lays overturned in the gravel, someone's leftover fire pit. Most of the discarded trash on the ground is rotting, two or three empty, broken liquor bottles included.

His initial impression must be correct: the new owners haven't the desire to return the airfield to its days of glory. Why, then, is it useful to own?

He pushes away that thought to focus on the mission ahead. Reaching the last trailer before the yard turns to a stretch of grass meeting the hangar, he crouches there and assesses the square doorway that makes up the dock. At first inspection, it appears forgotten.

Unfortunately, the door is also closed.

He releases a dismayed breath. Rolling bay doors have chains; chains make noise. Jon sizes up the second option: a regular-sized door next to the dock, accessible by a short flight of concrete stairs. The door itself is metal and could be barred from the inside. He has to check on the off-chance that it isn't.

The distance between that door will require a sprint. Archer checks the road to his right to ascertain any movement (of which there is none), then glances left, catching a flash of a body disappearing around the radio tower. Well, if Kirk and his team can make to their destination undetected, so can he. He flicks the safety off his weapon and runs.

Twenty years ago his lungs wouldn't have protested the burst of exercise. By the time he reaches the top step, his breath is sawing in and out and sweat has gathered at his temples. He tries to the knob, cursing to find the door locked and kneels down to put himself eye-level with the key hole. Pulling a tiny lock-picking kit out of an inner jacket pocket, he thinks it's a good thing he is alone. Nobody ought to know that the county sheriff can do this.

Jon tries to wheedle the door into compliance as he twists the metal rods around the lock. "C'mon, c'mon..."

The radio clipped to his shoulder comes to life with "Kirk here. We're inside the tower."

He responds, "Good work."

"Thanks. The door to the control room was locked, but Spock broke us in." Static overlays Kirk's report momentarily. "—you."

"Repeat that, Kirk. You broke up."

McCoy's voice filters through. "He said we can see you from up here. Isn't lock-picking illegal, Sheriff?"

Damn. Jon isn't foolish enough to reply to that.

Spock has a different opinion on the matter. "There is no shame in using the skills of a delinquent under these circumstances, Mr. McCoy."

"Great," Archer mutters under his breath. He has been Spock-approved.

Kirk is back. "We can't see the far side, but there's a car sitting in the south parking lot. No one inside it."

"Interesting," Spock muses. "Sheriff, though I cannot speak with certainty without visual confirmation of the license plate, the vehicle is similar in make and model to the one which Lt. Marcus was driving."

So, Marcus followed their mark here. Jon wants to know, "What else do you see?"

"The hangar opening is guarded. We're going to need my plan," Kirk says. "Bones, see if you can find a power box. Spock, can you work this equipment?"

"It is antiquated," comes the faint reply. "I shall try, Jim."

"Be careful," Jon reminds them.

"We'll do our best. Kirk out."

Just as Jim's voice fades, the lock makes a tiny click of sound, which is akin to a shout of triumph to Archer's ears. He gently turns the door knob, wincing as the rusted door hinges complain after being neglected for so long. When the door is open just a sliver, he peers through the space to detect movement and listens for sounds like someone nearby. The silence is promising.

Archer slides past the door and closes it behind him, allowing his eyes a moment to adjust from the bright daylight of the outdoors to the shadowed interior of the hangar. Luck seems to be with him. A row of stacked pallets hides this door from sight. No wonder no one uses it, he thinks, since it would take a large machine like a forklift to clear a proper pathway. He stirs a thick layer of dust and swallows a sneeze.

The pallet stacks are tall enough to cover his movement and also give him a view of the wide level hangar floor and the second-story office on the opposite side. _One_ , Jon ticks off mentally, noting the bald, tattooed man standing by the office door. From his ground level, the height of the office windows makes it impossible to see if anyone is inside the office, but he figures the man is either standing guard against whoever is inside or there to prevent someone from escaping.

Keeping to the darker corners, he switches from pallet to pallet, counting, _Two, three, four,_ as more of Nero's men become visible. From the very last stack in the row, he spies another door leading to the outside sitting ajar below the staircase. The shadows of two men are on the outside, more guards, but it's the group just within that doorway which draws Archer's attention.

The man armed with the short blade is Ayel. Ayel seems fixated on the office above their heads, the thoughtful way he turns his knife over and over in his hand suggesting that the person in the office is an enemy, not a friend of Nero's.

The other three men suited in black resemble stone statues more than living people. They don't appear overly captivated by anything, for the occasional turning of their heads is almost robotic as they survey of the hangar for threats.

In the very center of the group is Nero himself. With one hand hidden in a pants pocket, the man's posture is almost casual, as if the conversation he's currently engaged in on his cell phone is the only pressing concern on his mind. The occasional murmur of his voice is an echo than Jon can barely catch.

Nero looks no different than the sharp-eyed, smiling politician he portrayed during last year's election campaign. Though Jon has never had the opportunity to introduce himself to Nero in person (he supported Wesley during the election for Mayor, and Nero has only ever answered his investigation inquiries via a law firm), this man's face has been plastered all over his crime board since the incident with the North Star.

A sudden furious impulse to make his presence known and catch Nero unawares overwhelms Archer, and he starts forward without thinking. By the time his higher reasoning kicks in, he has rattled a broken pallet board by stepping on it.

Ayel tears his gaze away from the office and turns in Jonathan's direction.

Jon thinks, _You've done it now, Archer_ , and quietly raises his gun, preparing to be discovered.

A siren's scream cuts through the hangar. Jon clamps a hand to one ear, startled, half-expecting they have found themselves stuck in the middle of an enemy air raid.

Nero, momentarily frozen like everyone around him, straightens and snaps his cell phone shut, turning on his guards with a slashing look. "Secure the area!" he shouts over the wailing siren, then to Ayel specifically, "Find a way to shut the damn thing off!"

Ayel bounds up the staircase to the second-story and slams back the office door, disappearing inside.

Teeth bared, Nero pivots in a slow, wary circle, no longer the suave, mild-mannered politician.

Jon presses back behind his pallet stack, wondering how long it will be before the guards flocking out across the hangar will think to check his hiding spot. A heart-pounding thirty seconds later, the siren abruptly cuts out.

Jon hopes like hell that Kirk and his team made good use of the chaos to reach the ladder.

Gathering his courage, he peers around the edge of a pallet. Ayel appears in the open doorway, a struggling man in his grip. When Ayel throws his quarry against the railing, Jon gets a good look at the man's face. It's Marcus. Behind Ayel and Marcus, another person slips into view, then, prevented from too far forward over the office's threshold by the thick arm of the guard still posted there. Even with the bruised face and swollen eye, Jon has no trouble identifying him either.

Absolute shock often has the curious power of both numbing and clarifying the mind. Though Jon cannot even move, he drinks in every detail, every word, every action: Ayel forcing Marcus down the steel staircase at knife-point, Marcus babbling that he had nothing to do with the siren, and Pike standing so very still, observing the treatment of his fellow officer and friend in silence.

Almost like a blow, that fact that Pike is alive strikes Archer hard, filling him with a painful amount of joy.

Pike is alive. Pike is here. He needs to get to Pike.

At the latter thought, Jon's brain begins to work furiously. He reaches for his radio, activating it to say in a strained voice, "Archer here. I have—"

Larry's voice cuts in. "Yeah, we see him, Boss." Then sharper to Jonathan, he urges, "Don't do anything rash."

"What's your position?"

"Side of the front entrance. _Matthews_ ," Larry hisses, "I said stay put!"

Matthew comes through the background, arguing, "But we have to rescue—!"

"Shh!" hisses Archer's oldest deputy with more violence. "Remember who's listening!"

"Oh," says Matthews after a pause. "Shit, good point."

Archer can't fault Larry for being wary of alerting Kirk to Pike's presence. Who's to say what the kid would do? Jon makes a snap decision then. "Maintain your position, Deputies. When I have the chance, I'm changing my ten o'clock to nine o'clock."

"Roger that, Sheriff."

Waiting is the hardest part, especially knowing that their presence cannot yet be revealed to Pike.

Stepping off the staircase, Ayel shoves Marcus in Nero's general direction with the snarl, "He was trying to use the radio."

"I wasn't!" denies Marcus. "The damn thing came on just before the siren went off!"

Nero stares at Marcus like there isn't any appeal to his pleading. "Did you think you could create a diversion and escape me, Lieutenant?"

"It wasn't me," Marcus claims more forcefully. "Maybe it's a warning to you!"

Nero falls silent for a long minute before asking, "And who do you believe to be responsible?"

Jon's stomach sinks.

But Marcus says with certainty, "Kor. I told you he would come back."

Nero motions to some of his men. "Scout for intruders. If Kor truly intends to start a war with me, he wouldn't send one man in alone to distract us." After those men gather others to complete Nero's bidding, Nero tells Ayel, "Kor has no taste for subtlety. I should like to repay him in kind. Block the road with two of the cars."

Something Liu had said about her city's local gang leader calling his organization to arms hovers uneasily at the back of Archer's mind. Could it be possible that what Marcus claims is true? That Kor and Kor's men are coming here to challenge Nero?

Damn, yet another hostile force to worry about. How is he going to get Pike away safely?

He won't be able to. Someone else must.

"Larry, Matthews," he calls first, "get your asses away from the front entrance. The merc is heading that way." Then, "Birds in the nest, I need eyes on the road _now_."

No response is immediately forthcoming.

Archer puts his back to the pallet stack, facing the wall, lifting his radio closer to his mouth. "Kirk, it's Archer. Do you copy?"

"Spock here. We read you."

Oh, not good. "Where's Kirk?"

"Hm," Spock pauses and then goes on as if recognizing that it might be important to know where his charge went, "he is nearby."

That is a piss-poor answer in Jon's opinion. " _Explain,_ " he demands.

A whisper comes through, not Spock's or Kirk's. "We're on the roof."

Archer nearly shouts at that, managing to bite his tongue at the last second. With deadly control, he repeats, "Explain."

Spock supplies, "The hatch to the rafters is bolted from the inside. We proceeded to the roof to make use of the skylight."

"We can't see much through it though," McCoy continues on in that whispering voice. "The glass is too cloudy."

"McCoy," Jon says, having heard the slight shake of the other man's words, "what's wrong?"

"Mr. McCoy is afraid of heights, a fact which he did not deem relevant for us to know until just now."

"I'm doing o-okay," stutters Leonard. "Just don't let go of my hand."

Jon chokes.

Spock sighs. "I do not understand Jim. I am perfectly capable of transversing the roof to the second skylight."

"Then who's gonna keep me from falling off?" McCoy counters in a harsh whisper.

"This position is secure. You will not fall."

"If I hyperventilate and pass out, I will!" McCoy nearly shrieks now. "Damn your cold-blooded soul, I said don't let go of my hand!"

Spock's exasperation filters through. "I have no intention of letting go, but I would appreciate it if you did not break my fingers in the process of seeking comfort."

Jon absolutely understands why Jim made Spock stay with McCoy. If Leonard is too incensed at Spock to remember how afraid he is, they won't actually have to worry about Leonard passing out.

Nonetheless, Jon is going to strangle Jim the next time he sees him. Traipsing about the roof like it won't matter if he falls off and breaks his neck, the crazy fool.

As if the mere thought conjures the man in question, Jim is suddenly talking to Archer through the radio. He sounds out of breath. "Sheriff, I think we have uninvited guests."

That's exactly what Jon is afraid of. "Tell me."

"Guests," Jim bleats again kind of mindlessly and then, annoyed, " _Bones._ "

"Damn it, Jim, just take my hand! You're my boyfriend!"

"I also find this arrangement to be severely disturbing," agrees Spock.

"So the other skylight," Kirk continues, clearly ignoring his companions, "isn't any better for a visual, but I did climb up to the antenna—"

McCoy moans.

"—because Uhura reported incoming traffic. I could almost make out the cars. There's a lot of them." Jon hears the frown in Kirk's voice. "It also looks like there's some kind of blockade at the main gate."

"Nero ordered that," Jon explains. "Kor's coming."

"Kor," Jim repeats slowly as if puzzling out who this could be.

"Listen up, Kirk. The recon mission is over. When the coast is clear, retreat to the radio tower, then back to the woods. Take Spock's SUV, pick up your crew from wherever they're hiding and high-tail it to the highway."

Jim's voice sharpens. "What's going on?"

"A territory war we do _not_ want to find ourselves in the middle of."

"But Marcus..."

"I have eyes on Marcus. I'll handle him."

Spock says, "Acknowledged, Sheriff," and cuts the communication.

Jon is left staring at his radio with the suspicion that Spock doesn't want him to know what they are thinking. He is about to radio Larry and Matthews to come to the dock when a shouted demand from Marcus of "What about Pike?", grabs Jon's attention. He turns to watch.

Nero's head lifts briefly towards the man still watching the proceedings silently from the office door. "Did I give the impression that I wanted the detective dead?"

"What?" Marcus says in surprise.

Nero's gaze finds Marcus again. "I will ruin him, of course, but for now I simply thought it prudent that Detective Pike knew the reason why." He speaks in a wholly different voice, then: clear, penetrating, imperious. "You seem too eager to be rid of him. Very well. The choice is yours, Lt. Marcus, but know this: spilling Christopher Pike's blood has far less value to your future than the breaking of his spirit will."

"What does that mean?" Marcus asks warily.

Nero offers up a small smile. "If you heed my advice, you can have the body back for its intended purpose."

Whose body? Jon wonders. What would Marcus do with it?

The lines in Marcus's face smooth out, as though he finally understands Nero's meaning. "If I take care of Pike as recommended, does this mean I work for you?"

Nero inclines his head ever-so-slightly. "I can generally find a use for any man—even the cowardly."

Marcus's mouth thins at the obvious insult, but only wants to know, "What about Kor?"

Nero's tone indicates he has lost interest in the conversation. "Kor is your problem."

"No," Marcus begins to protest.

Ayel returns. "We are prepared to hold them at the gate until you leave."

"You can't leave me to Kor!" Marcus yells, angry again.

Nero rests a hand briefly on his man's shoulder. "Thank you, Ayel. Keep in mind what I said about Kor, should the opportunity present itself to you."

"Yes, Nero," Ayel responds with deference.

Marcus shouts for Nero as Nero strolls to the open door under the stairs where a black sedan slides past.

"Ah," murmurs the man, pausing to slide his hands into his pockets as he turns back to observe those he is leaving behind. "Detective!" he calls to Pike, who has moved to the edge of the landing now that the guard is coming down the stairs. "I feel that we are destined to meet again."

Left ignored, Marcus launches forward as if to attack. A man in a black suit aims a punch at Marcus's head that sends him sprawling across the floor.

"If he tries that again," Nero says, "break his neck," and walks out.

Marcus sits up, hand to his bleeding mouth, stunned.

Jon shoves away a moment's pity for the man and circles the stack closest in distance to the stairs. There's little chance of crossing the space without drawing attention. Should he wait until the others leave to fight Kor? But Nero could be gone by then. When will there be another opportunity like this to put a stop to Nero's sadistic plans?

Marcus climbs to his feet, looks around at the men who aren't precisely his enemies, yet are most certainly not his friends. Ayel sneers at him in disgust before walking back to the front entrance. The others follow him.

Marcus jumps at the chance to go to the stairs. "Pike!" he calls.

As Jon watches Chris presses his mouth flat, turns and limps back into the office.

On his own now, Marcus quavers for a moment. Then he slides backward as he surveys his surroundings. His gaze lingers in Archer's direction and he starts that way.

Jon hardly dares to breathe, unable to believe an opportunity like this is coming into his hands. The moment Marcus steps around the other end of the pallets, Jon bolts across the empty hangar, slamming through the door to the outside.

"NERO!" he bellows, gun raised and at the ready.

Caught mid-call, Nero stares at Jonathan with undisguised surprise. The phone by his ear is ringing.

A man picks up and, after a moment of silence, hangs up again.

Jon moves forward, making certain to block the door at his back as an escape route.

Nero steps back in tandem. His mouth twists wryly for a brief second before he says in his smooth politician's voice, "So, Sheriff Jonathan Archer. In the end you came to me."

Jon snorts. "You forgot to send my invitation. This is an interesting little party you've got going on here, Councilman." His humor falls away. "Hands behind your head."

Nero's surprise is gone, replaced by a cold aloofness. "I admit this is not a party I planned very well. How did you find this place? Never mind," he adds contemptuously. "I will discover the answer soon enough."

Jon reminds himself that all bad guys like to boast in order to support their own egos. "You're under arrest for conspiracy in the kidnapping of a law enforcement officer."

"Kidnapping?" echoes Nero, mouth curving with disdain. "I am not holding anyone here. Retrieve whomever you wish."

Jonathan takes a step forward, pulling out his handcuffs. "Cut the bullshit, Nero. Hands behind your head. I won't repeat myself a third time."

Nero complies the order even as the disdainful curve of his mouth becomes more pronounced. "You're making a grave mistake."

"Yeah, yeah, tell that to the judge."

"I shall," Nero rumbles, then in a deliberate voice commands, " _Ayel, avenge yourself!_ "

Jon spins around—having not heard a sound of the soft-footed approach behind him—to meet Ayel's rage.

Archer has the wind knocked out of him as he hits the ground. He doesn't lose the grip on his gun, but the man snarling in his face is grinding the bones of his wrist together in an attempt to force him to let it go. He sees almost too late that Nero's vicious fanatic of a follower has a weapon of his own. Using his free arm to block the knife from plunging into his throat, he bucks at the first opportunity to throw the man off, but only with marginal success: Ayel loses the leverage he has to pin Jon's wrist.

There's no time to think or to plan; training is only Jonathan has. He manages to lift his arm enough to shove the muzzle of the gun against Ayel's chest in the same moment the man slashes downwards with the knife again and fires. The force of the discharge topples the man backward, his knife clattering to the ground beside him.

Archer remembers to breathe in the moment after, numb with relief. Ayel is dead, he can see that. Coming to his feet, he realizes his neck stings and winces as his fingers find the shallow cut left behind by Ayel's knife.

Thinking of the knife reminds him of Nero, but when he turns around Nero has vanished and the black sedan that was idling up ahead too.

"Fuck," he says succinctly to the empty field, feeling like a failure.

"Sheriff? We heard gunfire. Do you need backup?"

"Negative. Deputy..." He swallows hard. _Nero got away. I failed us._ "What's your position? Can you get inside the hangar?"

"Not a good idea, Boss. Your shot spooked the fighting at the gate. Recommend a quick retreat instead."

Jon can retrieve Pike from the office on his own. "Do it."

The moment his finger lifts off the call button, the radio jumps to life with " _Sheriff!_ " Then, like a man driven beyond endurance, McCoy says, "Goddamn it, I knew this was a bad idea. Sheriff, Jim's gone after Marcus!"

"What!" he barks.

McCoy sounds caught between fury and tears. "And I can't get off the goddamn roof! Jim wanted to see where the gunshot came from and saw Marcus running out of the building."

Larry interjects hurriedly, "Jon, Matthews cut the cables to the steering. There's no way Marcus can move his car."

Jon is already hurtling like a comet back into the hangar to take the most direct route to parking lot even before Larry finishes speaking, preoccupied with one overwhelming concern. Jim is after Marcus. Marcus is the enemy. Marcus is fleeing at the first chance, but won't be able to get away easily. Therefore Marcus will have no care for the boy. He'll hurt the boy, possibly destroy the boy, in order to survive.

"No, Jim, no," Jon whispers.

Something catches his eye, just momentarily, a familiar figure at the top of the landing staring, shocked, at him as he races past.

Chris. Calling his name.

Chris or Jim, Chris or Jim.

For Jon there is no choice in the matter: he keeps going until he bursts beyond the main entrance doors and into the sunlight spilling over the parking lot.

"KIRRRK!" he roars.

The shout is a distraction to the man pinning Jim to the hood of a car. Jim uses it to throw Marcus sideways. Spock, already peeling himself off the ground not far away, launches himself—not at Marcus—but at Jim. Jon understands why a second later, because Marcus fires off a shoot from the gun in his hand, and the bullet shatters the windshield of his car instead of embedding itself into the skull of Kirk who had been standing just there before Spock had knocked him down.

Jon aims for the gun in Marcus's hand. Marcus isn't fast enough to switch targets from Kirk to Jon, and screams as Jon's aim holds true, dropping the gun to clutch at his now profusely bleeding hand. The man turns, stumbles, and flees. Jon takes off in pursuit, snatching up Marcus's gun and yelling into his radio, "MCCOY, GET OFF THE ROOF NOW!"

He trusts that Spock will fight Jim into the ground rather than let Kirk follow them, but he'll manage that fight better with Leonard at his side.

With a street battle happening at the gate to the main road and Nero himself having escaped in the remaining car, probably down the dirt road to the east, there's nowhere for Marcus to go but into the hangar again. Jon comes around the side of the hangar where Ayel lies dead in time to spy Marcus slipping through the door. He slows to a jog as he approaches it, tucking the extra gun into the back of his pants.

"Belay that retreat," he orders to his deputies. "Come in from the north. Let's back this son of a bitch into a corner, boys."

"On my way," Larry responds. "Matthews has the front entrance covered. He won't let anyone out—or your kids in."

Relief fills Archer, must be obvious in the gruffness of his reply. "Don't know what I'd do without you, old son."

"Watch yourself, Boss. I thought I detected a heartfelt emotion there."

Jon grins. That's Larry's way of saying, _Me too._

Then he fortifies himself, waiting a beat before stepping through the doorway with his weapon at the ready.

Marcus, the bastard, hits him from that exact angle where he's blind when he comes through. Jon's gun jumps in his hands, firing wildly into the hangar, as they go down in a tangle of limbs. He manages to clip Marcus on the chin with his elbow, but that doesn't deter the man from his mission, which Jon comprehends in a moment's clarity is to retrieve his gun.

"Hell no!" he snarls, and twists away then comes in from a different angle to nail his attacker in the stomach with the knee.

Marcus swings as he folds in over his vulnerable midsection; Jon takes the full force of the blow to his cheekbone. Marcus grabs for the gun in Archer's hand in that moment and almost succeeds until Jon plants a boot in the man's thigh and does the only thing he can to prevent Marcus from arming himself—wrenches his arm back and lets the gun fly off into the shadows. Marcus bellows then, a sound of rage, and knocks Archer backward on his ass. The man goes scrambling after the gun.

By the time Jon rolls back to his feet, afraid that he's made a miscalculation he cannot counteract, the situation has completely changed.

For an instant Marcus, frozen in a partial crouch, has his eyes on someone else.

Pike.

Jon's gun never wavers in Pike's hands as Pike takes aim at their enemy.

Jon can't manage to say anything other than Pike's first name.

Marcus slowly raises both hands in a gesture of surrender, then with as much care straightens up until he is standing. Jon straightens as well and takes a step forward.

Pike jerks his chin to the side, a silent command for Marcus to move away from Jon.

That Marcus complies without question doesn't strike Archer odd at first, not until Marcus says, "You won't shoot me," and Pike replies in a too-flat voice, "I'm thinking about it."

He sees it then, something which has never before been present in Pike's eyes: hatred.

"Pike?" he questions cautiously.

No response, just a stern face, iron mouth, implacable eyes. Pike at his coldest.

Marcus emphasizes, "You can't shoot me."

"Can't I?" Pike sounds dangerously reasonable. "You said it yourself, Alex: what good is moral righteousness in the face of the morally reprehensible?"

Jon doesn't like the sound of that. It isn't _Christopher_. "Chris," he says more firmly, "put the gun down."

"Yes, Chris," echoes Marcus, "put the gun down now."

"No," counters Kirk's father steadily and without moving.

All of a sudden, Marcus's gaze becomes hooded. "Sheriff, you heard the man. Do you plan to stand there and do nothing, or will you stop him from being foolish?"

Marcus is baiting them both. Jon ignores him. "Chris, talk to me. What's going on here?"

"I want him dead, Jon."

"You can't mean that."

"You don't know what he's done."

"I know," Jon says gravely.

Marcus's head jerks slightly in Archer's direction.

Jon continues on, "In fact, I would hazard a guess that everyone knows what the Lieutenant's done by now. Your captain was just biding her time until this dumbass slipped up—and boy did he."

"Liar!" snarls Marcus. "Liu sanctioned this hunt."

Jon has no problem tuning the asshole out. Still watching Chris, he adds more gently, "If there's more we don't know, there will be plenty of opportunities to tell us once he's in handcuffs. Pike... Chris, we got him."

Marcus is incensed now. "I came here to stop a rogue cop from committing murder! You're lying, Sheriff—lying to save your lover! You cock-sucking son of a bitch!"

"Somebody's overly sensitive," Jon says to Pike with a touch of humor. Then that humor fades. "We know Marcus planned the kidnapping. We know about Kor. The truth always comes out. If there's anything you believe in, Chris, I know it's that."

For a split second, he thinks Pike's resolve wavers.

Until that resolve returns twice as strong. "I believe in protecting the innocent from the ugliness of the world." Chris's voice quickens furiously. "This bastard hasn't any good left in him. All deceit and cowardice and lies!"

"Oh yeah?" counters Jon. "Then what about Kirk?"

Pike grows still.

Jon rushes ahead. "He's here. Could barely hold him back when you were taken." Although, where Jim is now Jon cannot begin to guess. Matthews is a brave soul but no match for Kirk.

Pike's sudden intake of breath indicates his shock. Jon wonders if the man's hand tightens on his firearm out of reflex or something else.

Then Pike asks much too softly, "Jon... what is my son doing here?"

It's definitely not a reflex. At least Chris doesn't turn the gun on him. "Long story," he explains a bit nervously, "and also most of that story should be obvious. We're talking about Kirk here."

But that doesn't soothe Jim's father at all. "You let him come to a gunfight!"

Jon winces at the shout but continues on, determined to impress upon Pike what is most important: "You can't let Jim watch you get taken away in handcuffs for murder."

Without warning, Pike's expression shutters again. "I'm doing this for Jim."

Damn it. Jon has no choice then. He shifts his position, plants his feet shoulder-width apart, and uses the gun Marcus had turned on Jim to threaten Marcus.

Their target's eyes grow wider. He sounds extremely uncertain as he questions, "What are you doing, Sheriff?"

"Here's the thing, pal. My boyfriend says you have to die for the sake of his son, and I'm no fool to argue with that. I'm just gonna shoot you instead."

"Jon."

At least he has Chris's full attention now.

"Jon, you can't shoot him."

Jon insists, never taking his eyes off Marcus as he offers an unrepentant grin, "We'll do it together. I'm okay with going to prison. Hey, who knows, maybe we'll be lucky enough to be cellmates."

Pike is too still for a short moment, then sighs deeply through his nose and lowers his gun. "You asshole," he tells Archer without any real heat.

Jon lowers his gun to meet his partner's gaze. "You like me anyway." Although, now he's curious to know which part, exactly, made Chris give in: the realization that Jonathan isn't bluffing about throwing away his career and his freedom; or the horrific thought of being stuck with Jon for years on end in a tiny prison cell.

An unexpected sound breaks the hold of their gazes. Marcus, who had given a sudden gasp, bursts out with helpless laughter. He laughs and laughs, and goes on laughing wildly, his voice a sliding echo across the hangar.

"Okay, _now_ I think we should shoot him," Jon declares as he cautiously regards Marcus while sidling in a half-circle towards Pike.

"Alex," Chris says in a voice which Jon imagines Chris reserves for lunatics and suicidals, "stop now. It's over."

"Over!" wheezes Marcus. "Oh, it's over for all of us. I'll take you with me, Chris. I don't even care if it will make Nero ecstatic to watch you on trial. You and me, from the beginning to the very end. But first, I have unfinished business with this bastard!"

Since Jon can't fathom what Marcus thinks he can accomplish by attacking him unarmed when Jon has a gun, Jon doesn't react immediately to defend himself.

Except there's no need for defense because the sound of a gun firing shocks all of them to the core.

Marcus is the only one to stagger backwards in surprise. His fisted hands open—and Ayel's knife drops out of one of them, hidden by the sleeve of Marcus's coat. Marcus must have picked it up as he fled back to the hangar, Jon realizes, still stunned.

Marcus's eyes roll back in his head, and he collapses.

What seems like an interminable amount of time later, Archer is startled out of his immobility by the low call of his name. He turns around to find Larry moving forward, his gun still trained on Marcus. Once Larry seems satisfied that Marcus isn't going to get up again, he lowers the weapon to his side.

"You saved my life," Jon says, voice sticking in his throat.

His deputy simply nods and flicks on the radio attached to his shoulder, calling in, "Man down."

Pike hasn't stopped staring at Marcus since Marcus hit the ground.

"Chris?" Jon calls him gently.

Pike swallows and looks at him.

Jon is at a loss of what reassurance to give.

Larry turns to them, radio still crackling in his hand. "Matthews says he lost visual of Kirk, Spock, and McCoy."

"Help him search," Jon says. "We can... handle this part."

"As you say, Sheriff." Larry jogs to the main doors.

"Kirk, Spock, and McCoy?" Pike repeats in a faint voice.

Jon grimaces. "Like I said, long story. Chris..." He moves toward the man, wanting, needing to touch him. "How bad is it?" he asks.

"It's all bad," Chris says roughly. "You'll have to be more specific."

"You," he says, his concern making his response slightly too sharp. "How bad are you hurt?"

A spark comes into Pike's eyes, enough to warm the remaining coldness lingering there. "I'll live."

Jon wants to hug him but Pike's condition doesn't look like it will survive that no matter what the man says. So he thinks he will settle for running his hands down the man's arms, maybe cry a tiny bit into Pike's shirt, and admit that even if he's a failure he still hopes Chris will love him.

Jon doesn't make it to the first part of that wish, for a new voice interrupts, "A touching moment for the detective."

Jon and Chris turn as one to face a man Jon doesn't know at all, can't even see that well because he's loitering in the shadows under the staircase, but recognizes right away as trouble.

"You kept your word," this mysterious man says, obviously not to Jon but to Pike. "Very good. Very honorable."

"Kor," Chris names the intruder stiffly.

The man, Kor, shifts in the shadows, enough for Jon to see the humorous curve to his mouth and a ruthless gleam in his eyes. Kor says very slowly, deliberately, "Yet... I cannot keep my word when _you_ know my secret too."

Some sixth sense tingling, a danger alert, flashes through Archer, spurring him to cry "Down!" just as Kor steps out of hiding to reveal the gun he has aimed at Pike.

Jon throws himself at his lover with the fear he won't be fast enough. The _crack_ of the gunshot is jarringly loud, yet at the same time distant compared to the pounding of Jon's heart in his ears. He feels the impact of knocking into Chris, hears Chris cry out in pain, feels searing pain of his own as they go down together.

Further away, there's a scream of " _No, DAD!_ "

Chris and Jon hit the ground hard. Jon immediately rolls off him, but the damage is done. White as a ghost, Chris wraps an arm around his middle. He isn't coherent enough to answer Jon's anxious inquiries.

When Archer tries to prop himself up with his left arm, he drops right back to the ground again. The logical part of his brain says, _Congratulations, you've been shot, dumbass._ The emotional part is simply glad the bullet missed Pike.

"Kor," Chris bites out suddenly. "Stop Kor."

Jon looks around in time to see Kirk barrel down the hangar from the open archway and take a flying leap over a pile of small airplane tires, heading like an arrow straight for Kor.

Jon jumps to his feet. "Kirk, _don't!_ "

By the time Kor spins around to fire off a shot, but Jim is practically on top of him and Kor misses. The bullet rips through the Camel's face on the old poster on the opposite side of the hangar. Partway across the hangar, Spock reacts by dragging McCoy down to the ground to make them less of a target.

Cursing, Jon sprints towards Kirk and Kor, now rolling through the dirt and dust, tearing at each other like vicious dogs. He yells at Spock and McCoy, "Help Pike!"

Jon's been shot in the upper torso somewhere because when he takes aim at the fighting pair, his body reacts by jerking in pain. There's no clean shot at Kor no matter how hard he concentrates; and Kor, who notices Jon waiting for an opening, lays Jim out with a decisive punch before plucking the kid to his feet and locking him into a choke-hold, turning Jim into his own personal human shield.

Jon shouts, "Let him go!"

Kor bares his teeth, declaring, "Take the shot if you dare," before dragging Jim backward to the door in the dock area where he must have snuck in to begin with. Jolting back to full awareness, Jim begins to struggle under Kor's arm.

Jon can't do anything but follow—follow and beg: "Let him go. Let him go, Kor, and I'll let you go. I swear it."

"No, you can't!" Jim rages. "He shot Dad! He shot my dad!"

McCoy must be with Pike by now, and Pike is... not shot, at least, but in pain; he has probably been tortured, and has to be heart-sick, too, over Marcus's betrayal.

Jon can't do anything about those wounds right now but he can save Chris's son. He will.

"Pike's okay," Jon lies. "Listen to me. Stop fighting. Jim, you need to _stop fighting_."

"This one has vengeance in his heart." Kor makes that sound like praise. The pair is almost across the threshold of the exit now. "I look forward to the day we meet again."

Kirk isn't going to let Kor walk away. He's going to try something stupid in the next second. Jon sees that truth plainly in Jim's eyes.

Perhaps Kor feels the same, for the moment his next step puts him through the doorway, he shoves Kirk at Jonathan and takes off. Jon does the only thing that makes sense: he grabs for Kirk's collar and swings the kid behind him, snapping, "Stay!" before he pursues Kor.

Kor doesn't take the expected path; he heads away from the road, directly for the trailer yard. He's fast, faster than Jon is, and disappears between two large trailers before Jon can catch up to him.

Jon stops and crouches by the first trailer he reaches, listening for movement on loose gravel. If Kor makes it to the end of the property, walled by dark masses of trees, they could very easily lose track of him.

"Kor!" he calls, moving cautiously down the length of the trailer, "give it up! We know about Pike—about Marcus!"

Laughter comes from farther ahead and to Archer's right. "For Marcus, I thank you! He was quite the troublesome little problem!"

 _Keep gloating,_ thinks Jon in disgust, _so I can find you_. He turns the corner of a trailer, checking the space between it and the next one before moving on. "If Marcus was the problem, then why go after Pike?"

"If I tell you, I should have to kill you too."

"You could try," Jon growls. Where is Kor hiding?

He wipes the sweat running down his face and keeps going. "Only cowards hide, Kor! Come out and fight me!"

A crash of something falling, like chains, nearby. Jon hurries in that direction. As he passes by the mouth to a trailer, he sees too late the tall shadow inside which doesn't belong there. Kor jumps at him, into him, with a scream like a war cry, and slams Jon into the next trailer.

The white-hot flash of pain is too much for Archer; he blacks out momentarily, coming to slumped down on his knees, an abominable throbbing in his upper chest and shoulder. In possession of the gun now, Kor looms over him, his bloodlust barely concealed by a hooded gaze.

"You should not have called me a coward," Kor tells him.

With a rush of despair, Jon knows this is the end for him. Did he tell Chris often enough that he loved him? Who would become Kirk's other parent?

Just as he thinks this, there is a flicker of movement behind Kor, a faint slide of shoes on gravel. Kor stiffens, recognizing the danger, but it's too far late. The dark-haired man who forms out of shadows, whom they hadn't heard until he wished to be heard, has the shape and size of someone Jon knows from personal experience is well-trained in fighting.

Spock grabs Kor by the back of the neck, at the same time disabling the man's gun hand with a twist of the wrist. In the next instant, Kor is face-down, spitting out gravel.

Kirk appears in the corner of Archer's eye, picking up the gun that Spock had thrown aside. Then Jim pulls a taser from the back of his jeans and tosses it to Spock. Spock holds the weapon for a second, contemplating his opponent on the ground, before warning the man, "I suggest you remain where you are."

Kor turns his head, looks directly at Archer, and bares his teeth in a vicious grin. "You have been saved... for now."

Jon forces himself to his feet, surreptitiously using the trailer at his back to support him. He holds out his hand to Kirk.

Jim brings him the gun.

"Get him up," he says.

Spock twists Kor's arm behind his back as he lifts the man to his feet.

Jonathan blinks the spots of his vision, wishes he hadn't lost his handcuffs during the fight with Ayel, and orders to Jim, "Take the left." He then assumes a position on the right and just slightly behind of Kor and Spock. "Don't think for a moment, I won't shoot you," he warns Kor.

Their group marches from the trailer yard towards the hangar.

Kor breaks his silence when they are halfway there. "It's quite the pity," he says. "I had something spectacular planned for that rat Nero—something even _he_ couldn't scoff at."

"I really don't care," Jon says, and he doesn't.

"Shall I show it to you?" Kor replies politely.

Jon stops walking as Kirk gasps and cries, "His hand!"

Neither Jon, Spock, nor Jim is fast enough to react.

Kor had drawn a small little device from his pocket with an ominous red button. He presses it, laughing—

—and a ball of fire shoots up towards the sky, the intensity of the blast knocking them back on their feet, thankfully not close enough to fry them outright.

The fuel truck has exploded.

In that moment of fire and debris raining down and smoke filling the sky, Kor throws his weight back into Spock with more force than the blast, freeing himself. He takes off in the direction from which they had come.

"Jim!" Jon cries as Kirk rights himself from his surprised stumble only to pursue Kor. Jon means to go after him but to his surprise the fire is wheeling in the sky and the ground rushes up to meet him.

Spock catches him before his face plants in the dirt, questioning sharply, "Are you injured?"

"Er."

The expression on Spock's face promises unpleasant repercussions if Jon was to lie.

"Shot," he confesses.

Spock has lowered him onto his back. His normally moderate voice booms out, "JIM!" When Spock wrenches down the zipper of Archer's jacket, an arrested look comes into his eyes. His voice cracks, disbelieving. "You have no vest."

Blood loss is making Jon woozy. He snorts, retorting before thinking better of it, "'Cause you're wearing it."

Spock stares as though he hasn't seen a man of Jonathan's ilk before. Then his head snaps around a second time. "JIM!"

Archer protests the hands inspecting his ribcage. "Hey, hey, hey, get a real medic!" His protest turns to a cry of pain when Spock locates the entry wound of the bullet.

"I apologize," Spock says, thin-lipped and looking ill himself. He sheds his outer coat and balls it up to press to the wound.

Jon nearly blacks out for a moment; while fighting off hazy vision, he sees a blur that must be Kirk skidding to a stop on the grass and dropping to his knees beside them.

Jim looks at Spock's coat soaking up Archer's blood and turns colorless.

Jon groans and closes his eyes.

" _No_ ," he hears the tearing whisper, " _don't die!_ "

His eyes open again. "Who said anything about dying? We need to get out of here."

Spock pins him on one side, Kirk on the other side when he tries to sit up. "No!" they say together.

Jon doesn't have time for arguments; really he doesn't. Grasping Spock's shoulder, he orders, "Get me the hell up." Then, pushing Kirk's shaking hands away from the bloody coat, he doggedly holds it in place himself. Spock is quick to take his weight as he tucks his legs under himself, determined to stand up. It's Jim who hovers next to them, stuck between the act of helping Jon and giving Spock room to maneuver him.

Crashing from an adrenaline rush is the pits, thinks Jon. Now he can't ignore how much pain he's in.

"Pike," he says, voice strained. "Take me back to Pike."

Kirk and Spock exchange some sort of silent communication over his head. Then he and Spock begin an awkward limping gait back to the hangar. Jim keeps pace with them, taking over pressing down the coat when Jon's hand slips.

"Hold up," Jon says tightly, spying a new line of vehicles coming down the road. These are black, unmarked vans with the kind of shiny polish and spit-clean exterior that implies vanity and wasted money on unnecessary maintenance. The men who haven't been beaten senseless by their rival counterparts pause as well to watch the newcomers approaching—until, that is, they realize like Archer who the newcomers must be. Then everyone, allegiance to Nero or to Kor forgotten, starts to flee in all directions, some sprinting for their cars or SUVs, others just running mindlessly across the field or the paved airstrip. A number of the vans veer out from the line to pursue those fools.

Jon urges Spock and Jim to help him hobble to the parking lot where the remaining vehicles ride right through the gate and being pulling up next to each other in a precise row.

The first van's back door swings open, the person scrambling out of it is much too familiar. Wide-eyed and red in the face, he—Montgomery Scott—staggers around the side like he desperately needs fresh air. An unperturbed Sulu follows suit, then a bright-eyed Chekov, and a smirking Uhura. The final person to exit the back is Agent Robbins.

Jon gapes. "What's this?"

"The cavalry," Spock supplies dryly. "I did ask Nyota to notify Agent Robbins of our whereabouts."

Together Jim and Jon stare at him.

"Medic!" Robbins barks, already striding their way. Another agent hurries around to the passenger side of a van further down the line.

Jon sees the fury in Robbins's eyes and wonders if it's too late to tell Kirk and Spock to turn around and hide him in the grass.

The agent stands in front of him, saying nothing at first. She makes a slow methodical study of his pale complexion, injured neck, blood-soaked jacket, and not-quite-steady hands. "I'm thinking there needs to be a new club," the woman remarks eventually. "You're as moronic and self-sacrificing as my ex."

"Don't you mean heroic and saintly?" Archer clarifies.

Robbins just stares at him until he shuts his mouth. Then she says abruptly, "We have Nero."

"What!" Jim and Jon cry at the same time. Spock lifts his eyebrows, then shifts his hold on Archer to take more of Archer's weight as Jon sways on his feet.

"Well, ye see," Scotty pops in, looking extremely pleased, "when we figured there was gonna be a gang fight, we moved our operations to the back road. I mean, kinda of obvious, right? That bastard Nero wasn't gonna get his hands dirty with a _fisticuffs_ kind of fight. I would know."

As she moves aside so the agent with the medical kit can reach Jon, Nyota takes up the explanation. "So we threw a few tire spikes on the road—"

"—and after Nero's car ran into the ditch—" Sulu goes on.

"—we electrified ze doors!" Chekov finishes happily.

" _Burn_ ," Scott says, waggling his fingers with an almost manic gleam to his eyes, "literally. I owed him that."

"At least they didn't kill him," Robbins says with a touch of amusement, "but he was very, very angry when we arrived."

"Oh god," Jon murmurs, then, " _ow!_ " as the agent with the bandages puts something vice-like around his shoulder to stem his blood flow. "I think this is worse," he declares, and pitches forward, for once grateful to pass out.

* * *

 **Epilogue will be posted tomorrow. Who's crying more: me or you?**


	13. Epilogue

**Part Twelve was posted yesterday. Please read it first if you have not.**

* * *

 **Epilogue**

The man shuffling away from the automatic doors of the hospital at a pace of someone thirty years his senior catches the curious eye of a few individuals on their way inside. It is his designated driver who exits a truck parked on the curb that reacts differently, simply shaking his head.

"Jon," Chris says, clearly amused and appalled, "where did you get that walker?"

Jonathan Archer pauses in his laborious trek to consider his new walking aid. "I've been shot," he replies as though that should be all the explanation necessary.

Chris raises an eyebrow. "Not in the leg."

A nurse hurries through the hospital doors. "Sheriff? Sheriff! Oh Lord," she despairs once she spies her quarry. "Mrs. Hanson said she gave her walker to somebody. I should have known it was _you_." Then she glares at Christopher Pike of all people. "This is why the doctor recommended you wait to be discharged on the same day."

Is she implying that Jon has been a handful since Pike left the hospital a week ago? Because to Jonathan that sounds grossly unjust, not to mention absurd.

But Pike doesn't deny the accusation. "If you had to share a room with this man 24/7, you would have escaped at the first opportunity too."

No less miffed, the nurse snatches the walker away from Archer and heads back into the building, muttering as she goes.

Chris motions to the truck. "C'mon, Jon. Let's go before you cause any more trouble."

"The nurses love me, all except that one," he insists as he is steered to the passenger side door. " _She_ remembers the last time I was forced into a hospital stay." He delays Pike ushering him into the truck by looking around with exaggerated dismay. "There's something wrong here, Chris. Where are the reporters? My fans and the joyfully tearful public?"

"In your imagination," counters Pike dryly. "Get in. We're already late."

Jon abandons his disappointment at the prospect of a new mystery. "Late for what? My commendation ceremony? My Welcome Back from the Dead party?"

"God," his companion remarks, "I should have asked the doctor to keep you longer. You were less annoying when you were on a morphine drip."

"You're one to talk, Mr. 'No, Spanish Soap Operas Aren't Real Daytime Television'."

"Not while I was confined to the bed next to you, they weren't."

"You have to admit," Jon teases, leaning in to brush his nose against Pike's temple as the man hooks in Jon's seatbelt, "after a while it was more efficient for the staff to have us share the room. I hear we broke the record for the number of visitors in a single day."

Pike pulls back, still looking amused but now also annoyed that Jon has a point. Then, with a wordless shake of his head, he shuts the truck door and climbs in through the driver's side. The truck is pulling onto the highway in no time.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Jon wishes there was a way to relieve the relentless ache of his shoulder. He tries to focus on the pretty view instead.

"Stop staring at me," Chris mutters after a while.

"Don't want to. I missed you, Princess."

"You saw me two days ago."

"But not yesterday."

"I needed a day to prepare myself."

Jon raises his eyebrows. "For what?"

"The fact that you have extended medical leave."

"Oooh, I know. We're going to be together for _weeks_." Jon had asked Liu to make certain of that fact. Not that he plans to tell Chris he had anything to do with the length of Pike's recovery time.

Maybe that they shouldn't discuss the coming month (though they will probably fare better together in Pike's house than they did that hospital room). He smiles, chiming, "Question!"

"Two questions. No more."

A negotiation. Jon can appreciate that, despite challenging, "Why not three?"

"Because I know you won't be satisfied with one question, and three questions usually leads to me having a headache."

"Fine," agrees Archer. "Two questions. Question number one... about your Number One."

Pike shoots him a bemused look.

Jon delicately clears his throat, uncertain of how sensitive the subject may be to the other man. "Do you have any regrets?"

"About Jim? You know I don't—wait, you mean, _Robbins?_ "

"Yes, Robbins. Una. The woman who sat at your bedside and fed you soup." And Jon hadn't been jealous while she did that, nope, not at all.

Chris smiles. "I seem to recall that she offered to feed you too."

"That was your captain." Jon shudders. "And Greta wasn't being serious. In fact, had I said yes, I feel pretty certain that she would have dumped the soup in my lap for assuming the offer was genuine."

"Honestly, Jon, I'm amazed that the two of you get along."

"Under less extraordinary circumstances I doubt we could," he answers seriously. "Now stop sidetracking. Regrets. Got any?"

"Such as?"

"Letting the love of your life go to D.C."

Pike sobers all of a sudden. "Una isn't the love of my life, Jon."

Archer's brain has difficulty processing that claim. "...But she fed you soup."

"Because I looked pathetic doing it on my own. Jon, I didn't tell you about Robbins because frankly that's part of the past. Yes, I loved the woman. I still do, except what I feel now has a different quality to it than it did while I was with her." Chris's fingers flex against the steering wheel. "That means she wasn't the love of my life, don't you think? I hope—would hope—that the person I fall in love with I will stay in love with for a long, long time."

Archer can't think of anything to say to that, not to Chris anyway. To himself, he cheers a little, thinking, _Chris isn't in love with her._

He clears his throat again. "Question two, then." Unfortunately this question isn't nearly so easy to ask. Jon briefly mulls over the best way to phrase it before finally accepting that there is no good way. "Did you actually want Marcus to die?"

A muscle in Pike's jaw flexes just once before Jon has a sense of Chris's formidable control coming into play. "Why are you asking that now?"

Jon regrets his question already, but the part that loves Pike refuses to take it back. "Because you haven't spoken his name since that day at the hangar." _Not to me, anyway_ , he doesn't say. He is certain Pike had to say something to Liu and the federal agents who came with her to notify Pike of the impending investigations, one to be conducted by Internal Affairs and another by the FBI.

Eventually Chris's voice returns, at first subdued. "Shouldn't the question be: did I intend to shoot Marcus?"

"I know that answer." Jon watches Chris glance away, just momentarily, before focusing on the highway again. "You thought you intended to... until you decided you wouldn't. Otherwise Marcus would have had a bullet in his head no matter who was standing beside you, Chris." A memory surfaces of the hatred so starkly in Pike's eyes; Jon forces it away. "But that isn't what I asked."

"The questions sound the same to me."

"You said you wanted Marcus dead. Why didn't you let me pull the trigger for you?"

The bitten-off, terse " _Never_ " is the only answer Jon expected Pike to give.

"Chris..." Jon quiets a moment before continuing on. "Revenge doesn't leave room for choices. The consequences—the price of taking revenge—carry no weight with the person who wants revenge. If Marcus had to die for the sake of the wrongs he committed, whoever pulled the trigger would have been a trifling detail."

"What's your point, Jon?"

"Ever since I first met you, I knew you could never let someone else take on a burden you considered yours to bear. That's why I made the offer. The Christopher Pike I know, you were him then—and you're still him now."

"I don't know, Jon. I was tempted."

"So you had a weak moment. Who doesn't?" Absently, he rubs his knee with his hand. He knows that Pike doubts himself, wonders if the future where he becomes another Marcus has only been stalled instead of thwarted. Jon can't take away all the doubts but he can express the fact that he doesn't share them. It's with a touch of humbleness that he concludes, "I believe in you."

A small intake of breath, there and gone.

Jon can only hope the words which changed the course of his life will have a similar effect for Chris.

He doesn't challenge the silence that settles in the cab. When the truck smoothly changes highway lanes, Jon contemplates a bit drowsily taking a nap.

"Carol came to see," Pike says abruptly, startling him. "To apologize on behalf of her father."

Jon turns his head which rests on his fist to look at Chris. "I thought his family was contesting the investigation."

"Carol believes me. I almost... want that to be enough. Nothing good will come of defaming a dead man."

"He's not gone yet," Jon points out softly.

Chris's mouth thins. "He will be. She came to tell me that too. Her mother needs a little more time to accept that keeping the body on life support won't bring her husband back, but Carol says the rest of the family has said their goodbyes."

Even though Chris relates the news in a flat tone of voice, Jon can tell the man is affected deeply. How had Pike been able to stand it, sympathizing with Carol yet knowing better than she—or anyone, for that matter—the depths to which Carol's father had betrayed them all?

Jon wishes he could reach across the cab to take Pike's hand, but the sling on his arm makes that a fantasy. He can only say instead, "Liu said she was looking into someone they can talk to, even if they win the dispute." _I asked her to give me the name of that contact as well,_ he doesn't add.

Now isn't the right time to discuss the counseling they are going to need. Though Jon has no real liking for the thought of discussing the scars left by this experience with anyone outside of family, since Chris could use the support he has already decided to do it with him.

Partners, he thinks, for better or worse.

"That's good," murmurs Chris.

Unexpectedly exhausted, Jon lets his chin fall off his fist and throws his head back against the headrest. After a time the motion of the truck lulls him into closing his eyes. The truck is turning onto the main road of Pike's neighborhood when he opens his eyes again, realizing dazedly he might have actually fallen asleep for a little while.

The vehicles parked haphazardly across the house's driveway and front yard brings a smile to his face.

He taps the windshield. "Looks like you have company."

"I have a pest problem." Chris absentmindedly runs a finger down the bridge of his nose as he suggests, "Maybe you can help me with that."

"Oh, I think these particular pests are permanent," Archer says all too lightly. He twists around to unbuckle his seatbelt as Pike parks at the end of the driveway. "Then again, if you hadn't gotten yourself kidnapped, we could have kept it under control."

Pike rolls his eyes in Archer's direction. "Yes, Jonathan, I tacked a sign to my back that said, _Kidnap me_."

"Hey, from what I heard, Kor's mansion has high-dollar booze. Pity no one can locate it."

"Shut up, you," growls Chris, swatting at Jon's head just as Jon slides out of the truck.

Eventually Pike comes around the other side and with a huff belied by a small smile holds out his hand. Grinning, Jon links their fingers and kisses Pike's knuckles.

The front door flies open before they are halfway along the sidewalk.

"Dad!"

Jon doesn't mind giving up his claim on Pike to Jim. In fact, he has this suspiciously warm fuzzy feeling in the center of his chest just watching the father and son hug. How odd that taking a bullet to the shoulder could have such unusual side-effects. He should ask McCoy about that.

"Speak of the devil!" Jon calls as the person in question appears at the front door.

"Devil, my sainted aunt," harrumphs Leonard. "Jim, get your five year-old butt back in this house! You knew Mr. Pike was goin' to get Mr. Archer."

" _Sheriff_ Archer," Jon reminds them all imperiously. "I wasn't actually deposed at that town council meeting. Apparently if you save the day _and_ get shot in the process, you get a pass on all kinds of misbehavior." Wesley had had the audacity to show up at the hospital after the press release featuring Councilman Nero's arrest, but the man had been more interested in talking to the cameras trailing behind him than inquiring after the town sheriff's recovery.

In retribution, Jon had concocted a scene for the cameramen in which Wesley had had to publically state that he knew all along Jon and his deputies were in pursuit of a terrorist organization suspected of being led by Nero or admit that he had no knowledge of his fellow councilman being so heinous. Wesley chose wisely.

Jonathan has a newspaper clipping of the mayor trying not to look disgusted as he kisses a bed-ridden Jon's cheek in thanks. He's going to have it framed and hung in the Town Hall.

Kirk pulls his face away from his father's shoulder long enough to contest, " _We_ saved the day."

Jon makes a noncommittal noise, then grins at Kirk's look of consternation. "We did."

Pike presses a kiss to the top of his son's head before stepping aside and gently pushes Jim in Jon's direction with the suggestion, "He could use some help up the stairs."

Jon really, really doesn't need help of any kind but he will clearly be outvoted on the matter. Kirk sidles up to him and takes a hold of the arm which isn't in a sling.

As Pike reaches the top of the stoop, McCoy says something to the man and the pair disappears inside the house.

"Sorry I couldn't come with Dad," Jim is mumbling, face turned down towards the sidewalk as he and Jonathan shuffle at a snail's pace along the sidewalk.

Jon assures him, "No sweat, kiddo."

"Spock and I had to talk to Bones about... something. And, you know, that generally takes time because once Bones and Spock forget they should be polite to each other—"

"Jim, it's okay. I get it, believe me. That one time you went with your dad to the Radiology department? Jesus. I had to up my morphine drip because you left those two behind. Do they _ever_ stop arguing?"

Jim blinks. "Arguing is how they communicate."

Archer doesn't much see the value in communication that involves flailing hand gestures and acerbic barbs. Then again, occasionally one of McCoy or Spock pauses to listen to the other's rant and comment more calmly before taking up the argument again. Even stranger, he really hasn't seen the flare of hostility in their eyes like he did during that confrontation in the precinct.

"Well, better for you to handle it than me." Or anyone, to be honest.

Jon pauses at the bottom of the stoop. "Kirk, let me ask you a question."

"Ask," Jim responds immediately.

"I heard you chose to ride in the ambulance with me rather than with Pike. Why?"

For a moment, Jim simply stares at him. Just when Jon thinks his question won't be answered after all, Kirk says, "I didn't want you to wake up by yourself and be disappointed."

No other answer could have floored Archer so easily. "You worried about that?"

"I was so focused on my dad I didn't stop to think that you would get hurt. More than that, I _put_ you in danger because I lost my head going after Marcus and then Kor. You saved me both times. You saved Dad. I thought, _What if the Sheriff thinks I don't care that he was hurt?_ " Kirk kind of shrugs. "Dad already knows how I would feel... but maybe you wouldn't." He is suddenly very earnest. "I can do better, sir. I know I've done enough to warrant your distrust. I don't know why you're willing to pretend otherwise when most of my actions were questionable from the beginning. You didn't even tell my dad everything, did you? So I have to do better. I decided if I am going to disappoint you again, it will be only when I'm certain what I'm doing is the right thing—the only choice possible." Kirk turns shy. "Maybe you'd be willing to help me figure out how to tell when that is?"

Jon's eyes are tear-bright. "I think you're already halfway there but, yeah, I'm willing."

Jim smiles and thankfully chooses to step back from the raw emotion of the moment by asking Jon speculatively, "Are you going to cry?"

In response, Jon wipes a finger under one eye and shows off the dry skin. "Damn. Nope. Now shut up and carry me up these stairs."

Jim laughs. "But you weren't shot in the leg."

With exaggerated gruffness, he pushes Kirk's blond head away from him and makes dramatic faces as he lumbers up the steps as a man with one wooden leg might.

Everyone turns to watch the two of them enter the living room, but the only person who races to greet Archer is Porthos.

"Sunshine of my life!" Jon crows to his beloved beagle.

Kirk obediently picks up Porthos so Porthos can give Jon's cheek slobbery kisses. Afterward Porthos squirms until he is let down and then runs off to the couch to sit next to the occupant there.

Jon raises his eyebrows at her. "Just how long are you taking for vacation?"

Robbins smiles knowingly. "You needn't worry, Archer. I have plenty of time saved up."

Jon narrows his eyes.

"Jon," Chris murmurs, "be nice. Someone had to watch the children."

Because that fact is so very true and Jonathan fears how Robbins will call in the debt later, he bites back any other remarks.

Then he notices the way the woman watches him and realizes perhaps she has been helping them out in other ways too. Only, how do they talk Kirk and McCoy into leaving the adults alone so he can hear whatever news it is that Robbins is waiting to share?

Chris asks Jim, "Has Porthos been for a walk?"

From the couch, Porthos perks up.

Pike, ever the genius! That's why Jon loves him. "Who wants a walk?" he baby-talks to his dog. "Who does? Porthos does?"

Porthos thwaps his tail against a pillow.

"Okay," Jim relents, always a sucker for authentic puppy-dog eyes, "I can walk him."

"I'll go along," Leonard adds, looking between Pike, Archer, and Robbins.

McCoy, at least, isn't as oblivious as his boyfriend is.

Jon takes a seat in Pike's recliner, both relieved to be sitting down again and annoyed that his energy level continues to flag at the most inconvenient times. Hadn't he laid in that damn hospital bed long enough?

Chris always could read his expressions like a book. "Jon, you need something?" he asks Archer with faint concern. "McCoy filled your prescription for pain meds. I could—"

"It can wait." Jon fixes his stare on Robbins. "Tell us."

She isn't one to soften unfortunate news. "Nero's getting out."

Pike snaps upright. "What?"

"It's the money trail," Robbins says, drumming her fingers on the couch arm in evident irritation. "The paper company he used to purchase the airfield has funding that we traced to a group called Eugenics, which for some time has been on the Bureau's most-suspected list of national corporations supporting terrorist organizations. Whoever is behind Eugenics is no small fish. Gaius plans to offer Nero witness protection in exchange for information on his backer."

"What the hell!" explodes Jon, prevented only from launching out his recliner by Pike's hand gripping his good shoulder. "Nero almost blew up an entire city block and you want to put him in _witness protection_?!"

Robbins's eyes blaze. "I don't. I would rather see your councilman in isolated lock-up for the rest of his life, but it's not my call. Gaius claims there isn't much we can pin on Nero anyway that would stick. As a loosely associated accessory to kidnapping, the case will get thrown out of court."

"Your boss is right," Chris agrees in a tight voice. "Nero's lawyers could easily claim he didn't know I was coerced into meeting him." He adds, bitter, "Not everyone believes my side of the story as it stands."

"Which is fucking bullshit!" snaps Jon, incensed. "If your captain doesn't set those fuckers straight, I will!"

Chris frowns at him. "Greta says she wants to talk with you, by the way. Something about a job she thinks you can help with. I wondered... Jon, you aren't considering leaving your department for my precinct, are you?"

Archer leans back in the recliner, somewhat placated. "You don't have to sound so terrified of the idea, pumpkin. And no, I'm sure Liu just wants my expert advice." He winks at Robbins.

The tips of Robbins's mouth curve.

Will she be party to updating him on Project Protect Pike? Jon bets so.

"We're back!" McCoy calls ahead of the slamming of the kitchen door, no doubt wanting them to wrap up any secret talk before Jim catches wind of it.

Porthos runs into the living room with his leash still attached. Jon looks on in disbelief as the dog bypasses his lap in lieu of cuddling up to Robbins.

Robbins removes Porthos's leash and rubs his sides. "You're such a sweet boy."

"He's a traitor," growls Jon, struggling to get out of the recliner. Pike helps him. "You can take him back to D.C."

Porthos barks like this is a great idea.

Archer heads for the kitchen, Pike at his side. "When's she leaving again?" he grumbles.

"Jon," says Pike in exasperation, pushing against the swinging door, "could you just for a minute appreciate the fact that Robbins is—" He breaks off at the spectacle in the kitchen.

Kirk and McCoy jump apart.

Chris sighs through his nose. "On second thought, this house _is_ becoming too crowded."

Unable to pass up the opportunity, Jon leans around Pike. "Kirk, when you're done drooling on your boyfriend, I need him for a medical consultation."

"What consultation?" Jim asks suspiciously at the same time Leonard wants to know, "Is there something wrong? How's your pain level?"

"It's my hormone level that's the problem, Doc," Archer replies cheerily. "How much sex can I have with Christopher, and how soon?"

McCoy sputters. Kirk screws up his face and plugs his ears.

Pike backs up. "I can answer that," he calls over his shoulder as he lets the kitchen door swing shut in Jon's face. " _None_ and _never._ "

"Ah," murmurs Jon, more at ease, "home sweet home."

* * *

Later that evening, Archer is more than ready for bed. Unlike his earlier declaration, he really just desires to prop his throbbing shoulder on a pillow and enjoy his first night in several days without the noise and lights of a hospital. Across the room, Chris has already dressed in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants for the evening. When Pike chucks a blanket or something overhead at the closet's top shelf, Jon spies the edge of the white bandage supporting the man's ribs beneath the shirt.

Yes, they're both in poorer condition than they have been in a while.

It could have been worse; Jon knows that. One of them might be grieving for a loss like Marcus's family, or their loved ones could have been left confused and frightened like Jenkins's wife and kids. Concerning the latter, Archer feels a guilt he cannot speak of easily. His deputies have not yet been able to find a trace of their former coworker, which leads Jon to believe that Jenkins didn't disappear on his own.

That's his responsibility to handle, and he will deal with it.

Disliking his own morbid mood, Jon searches for a distraction. A shower, maybe? Sponge baths by a nurse who is pissed at you are not too fun.

When he opens the bathroom door, he has to close it again right away and count to five. Except, opening the door a second time proves that Jonathan isn't hallucinating.

"Oh, hello," says the man in Jon's bathrobe standing at the sink shaving. "Almost done. Just a wee bit more..."

" _Scott_ ," Archer chokes, "what are you doing?"

"Can't use Jim's," Montgomery Scott explains. "Nyota put all her lady things in there and said if any of us disturbed her arrangement, she'd stuff her tampons in places we don't want them."

Chris appears at Archer's shoulder with a sheepish expression. "I forgot to tell you. Scotty's staying here."

"In our bathroom?" Jon says, aghast.

Chris supplies in a voice implying that he lost a prior argument over relocation, "In the laundry room."

Scott pauses to look between them before amending, "Actually I'm bunking on the couch. Equipment setup's in the other place. Oh right. Mr. Pike, sir, don't turn the dryer up to high. It messes with the infrared scanners." He mimics an explosion. "Might make them combust."

"Duly noted," Chris acknowledges gravely.

Scott turns back to the mirror and finishes shaving with a few swipes of Archer's expensive razor blade, to which Jon decides the damn item will have to be chucked in the trash.

As Scott towels his face dry, he says cheerfully, "I'll be turning in now. I heard what you asked Leonard earlier. I'll just plug my ears if ye get loud." As he exits the bathroom, he tells himself, "Need to find that wee pup. I finished a prototype of the cam-combat helmet I was telling Jim about 'n he's just the right size to wear it."

Jon doesn't even have enough presence of mind to yell _Don't touch my dog!_ as Kirk's friend disappears into the hallway.

Pike drops a hand to his shoulder. "Jon?"

"I'm having a nightmare."

Chris sighs. "We must be sharing the same one then. There's some kind of rotational shift for the others, but from the way Scotty talks he will probably be here for the full duration of our leave."

Jon stares at the partly closed bedroom door. "We still have my apartment."

"I considered that. They'd just follow us."

He bursts out, "We're not under a damn house-arrest!"

Chris raises an eyebrow. "I guess you didn't notice the new security cameras on the entrances and outer corners. I've glimpsed Scotty's monitoring system in the laundry room, so I know there are a few hidden in the house too. At night, when I wake up to use the bathroom, I sometimes find Uhura watching me from a chair in the corner. Other times, it's McCoy. If you check the window, Sulu and Chekov have started their nightly surveillance across the street. They followed us from the hospital today, too."

Now that Jon's thinking about, he has this fuzzy recollection of waking up at night to a silhouette of Spock reading by the window in his hospital room but thought that must be the side-effect of his medication. Jon goes to the bedroom window and twitches back the curtain. He definitely recognizes the car out there. "What does Kirk have to say about all this?"

The silence in the room prompts Jon to turn around.

Chris is staring at him pityingly. "My son," the man says, "is of the opinion it is very proper to guard us from future kidnappings."

Jon presses his mouth flat. Is that why Kirk avoided Jon's question at dinner of when he planned to return to his apartment with McCoy?

"He's stalling," Jon surmises grimly.

"Stalling, absolutely," Chris agrees. "But I warned Leonard this morning that he has three days to help Jim pack his bags."

Jon eyes Pike as he casually leans against the curtained window. "Why three days?"

Finally, Pike smiles. "I figure three days should be sufficient for us to run them out."

Jon's mood lightens. "I can do that."

"We can," Chris amends, still smiling.

Jon considers the man he loves very much. "And you're okay with letting the boy go?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Really, Princess?"

Chris sighs, taking a seat on the bed. "All right, fine. I admit that I may have been sensitive about the subject in the past."

"And now you're not. What changed?" Jon asks, more curious than anything.

"I realized I won't be around forever."

Unexpectedly, Jon's heart rate picks up. "Don't say that."

"Jon," Chris says, gaze sharpening, "breathe."

"What? I'm breathing. That is me not panicking." His voice betrays him by cracking on that last part.

Pike beckons him to the side of the bed and, once Jon is seated, places a hand on the back of Jon's neck. The warmth alone settles him.

"I won't be around forever," Chris repeats. "None of us will. Knowing that, shouldn't we be willing to live life to its fullest?"

"Mmm." Jon is distracted by how close Chris is to him. Despite sharing the same hospital room, the distance between them had been too wide to bridge, not to mention the nurse explaining about catheters and bed pans in the middle.

Now Chris isn't distant at all. Jon leans in.

Chris's hand squeezes his neck before sliding away. "I won't be selfish. Jim has other parts of his life that don't involve me, as he should. I want him to build that even more, so when the day comes, my absence will hurt him less."

"I don't know about hurting less. You're his father, Chris. Losing you will be painful for the kid no matter what."

"Thank you for saying so," Chris says softly, "but frankly, as his parent, I need the reassurance more than he does that he'll be happy on his own."

"Jim was lucky the day he met you."

"I tend to think of it as the other way around."

"Well," Jon murmurs, punching down a swell of sentiment at that statement by teasing, "at least there won't be waterworks when McCoy finally carries him off into the sunset. Or is dragged by him, which is more likely."

"Funny you should mention that, Jon," Chris says, pinning his boyfriend with an inquisitive stare. "I'm starting to wonder if you might be the one to cry. Did something happen between you and my son?"

Jon gasps. "Who told you?"

"You just did."

"What? No no no. I'm on pain meds. You can't count on me to say anything rational about Kirk."

"Like what?" a new voice asks.

Chris and Jon turn to look at the subject in question leaning against the doorframe to their bedroom.

Pike turns his frank stare onto his son. "How long have you been standing there?"

Kirk shrugs, which is the kind of noncommittal answer that means _assume I heard everything._

A rare look comes into Pike's eyes, then. If Jon didn't know better, he would call it sly.

"I told you that I plan to take care of Archer for the remainder of his recovery period, didn't I, son?" Chris asks.

"Sure, Dad."

"And that's okay?"

Jim nods without hesitating. "You'll take care of him like you took care of me."

Chris rounds on Archer. "You will _definitely_ tell me what happened later."

"Is that an order, Princess?" Damn, but Jonathan wouldn't be so nervous if Chris didn't have that devil-gleam still in his eyes.

The young man watching them from the doorway seems less interested in his imminent exposure as Archer's fan than he does about the concern that brought him to the doorway in the first place. "So, I was thinking," he begins.

Jon is glad for any change of topic, really.

"Kor got away."

 _But not that one._

Especially now that Chris reacts by locking up his expression.

Knowing Kirk won't leave and also that Pike isn't eager to encourage any topic of conversation involving Kor, Marcus or Nero, Jon asks on his behalf, "What about him?"

Jim looks at Jon. "We should do something."

"No," Pike says.

Jim clarifies, "I have an idea."

" _No_ ," Jim's father emphasizes, this time actually sounding mildly pissed.

Jon can only feel pity for him. To Kirk, he inclines his head. "Tell me."

Chris hisses Archer's name.

"I want to help but I'm no good with rules." Jim pauses. "And Bones threatened to end me when I suggested enrolling in the Academy. Said he didn't sign up to be a cop's wife."

Now Jon taps down on renewed panic, marveling privately at how miraculously level his voice is. "What alternative did you come up with?"

Jim perks up slightly. "Spock says we don't need training, only a business license."

Pike makes a noise and covers his face with one hand.

"To become what? Investigators for hire?" Jon swallows a gasp when he realizes that's _exactly_ what Jim is hedging at. "Kirk, you can't just—"

"Son," Pike interrupts, "this isn't a television drama. Civilian consultants are a _risk_ , and law enforcement doesn't just hire them at their leisure to catch a bad guy."

Kirk finally faces his father. "Archer will hire me."

Jonathan nearly falls off the bed.

Jim's jaw takes on a stubborn set. "Kor just can't walk away from this, Dad."

"Leave Kor to me," Pike insists. "Liu's already organizing a special team to go after him. I plan to be on it."

"I know, which is why Spock went down to the courthouse today to expedite our license."

Because Chris suddenly looks like he's on the verge of a stroke, Jon rises to block Pike's view of Kirk. But Chris stands up too, heading for the bathroom, fists clenched.

Jim tells his father's retreating back, "Number One says we're the next generation."

Pike pauses at the door, the only acknowledgment that he is still listening.

"And that means the generation that comes before us should help us prepare," Kirk finishes.

For what, Jon thinks, but then he knows that answer already. "I always did consider myself the first generation at everything," he jokes.

Pike steps into the bathroom and closes the door.

Jim and Jon share a look.

Jon says, "He'll come around." After all, it's simply prudent to allow Christopher an hour or so to realize that individually Jim and Jon may be stopped but when united are unstoppable.

Jim grins. "So we're hired?"

"I'll think about it," Jon states firmly.

Jim fist-pumps the air, hurrying out of the room with an excited whoop of "Bones, Bones, I got a job!"

Archer rocks back on his heels and huffs, his brief grin lightening to a faint curve of the lips. He counts to ten.

The bathroom door creaks open. Chris eyes him through the meager opening. "I wouldn't be smiling if I were you. You're taking responsibility for this."

"I know. Isn't that what it means to be part of a family?"

The door opens a little wider to show Pike considering him more thoroughly. A moment later he comes fully into the bedroom, the warmth in his eyes as humbling to Jonathan as the sound of his approval. "You finally figured it out," Pike says. "Welcome to the family, Jon." Then Chris is grinning. "It's going to be hell but you'll love it."

"I already do," Jon blurts out, then flushes at his inability to play it cool.

Chris comes close enough to slip his arm around Archer's waist. "I love you too."

Before reuniting with Christopher Pike, Jonathan Archer wouldn't have believed it was possible to turn to emotional mush at his age. He is happy to be wrong. His intention of showing Chris just how happy a few words can make him is interrupted by a crash from the other side of the house, cursing in a Scottish brogue, and a dog barking.

"Porthos!" Archer gasps, remembering too late Scott had dangerous—and untested—plans involving his sweet little beagle.

Pike sighs, releasing him and saying with dry amusement, "Ah, the sound of our life choices coming due. I've waited a long time to say this to someone else... Why don't you handle this one?"

Jon groans. "Ease a fella into parenthood, won't cha?"

"Don't be such a baby." Chris turns Jon to face the open bedroom door. "Remember all those years of chasing after my son as a sheriff? Think of that as practice, except now you can't arrest him."

Jon starts thinking very hard. "I could use handcuffs without making an arrest..."

Without another word, Chris steers him across the threshold and closes the door behind him. Jon cannot be certain but the muffled noise coming through the door sounds an awful lot like laughter.

Jonathan straightens his spine, faces his destiny down the long hallway (arm in a sling not-withstanding) and roars like any parent worth his salt, "KIRK! SCOTT! Mommy Dearest is coming to get you!"

Maybe if Jon is lucky, Jim and his friend will take the warning to heart and skip out of the house before Jon locates them. Yes, he'll just give the boy a little bit of time to run. And so, at a leisurely pace, Jon Archer sets out for the other end of the house, humming as he goes.

 **The End**

* * *

 **To think that we made it to the end... and yet there's so much more potential left. I couldn't include every part of my headcanon in this series (that would require more stories) but thought I would share some character tidbits you may or may not have figured out.  
Special Notes:  
1\. Agent Gaius - I didn't pick the name Gaius randomly. In Star Trek TOS comic canon, Gaius is an ambitious high-ranking Romulan who initially had dealings with the Klingons due to the Klingon-Romulan treaty, more specifically with two Klingons, Kor and Koloth. That's not to say that he trusted Kor or Koloth - Klingons and Romulans aren't allies in the truest sense of the word - but he did have the wool pulled over his eyes by Kor and Koloth and ended up believing that his greatest enemy was none other than James T. Kirk.  
2\. Gretchen Liu is in actual AOS canon (seen in STXI). We didn't have more than a few seconds of footage of her, but I thought since she was ranked as an Admiral, she ought to have a tough-as-nails temperament to rise to that position. At one time Pike would have been her subordinate. It made sense then to translate that relationship to the captain-detective one existing in this series.  
3\. It goes without saying that Marcus was not a good person in this story. However, I tried to bring some perspective to his crimes - the origins being the accident with his daughter, Carol - and reflect that in Pike, who by the beginning of the story is in a place extremely similar to Marcus's years ago. By no means is revenge a simple or rational act. I think anyone could take revenge, generally speaking, but not everyone chooses to. How is that decision made? And when does a person seeking revenge come to the point of no return? How easy would it be to rationalize worse actions after the one bad deed is done? Ultimately, I don't want you to like Marcus but I want you to pity him on some level, because if you pity him then you accept that he was once a human being who, when he and his family were in pain, made a bad decision—and aren't we all capable of that?  
4\. Nero, Nero, Nero. He's not like the Nero of STXI... or is he? We don't have a definite answer from this story. He's colder, crueler, and possibly more fanatical. Yet there is no indication as to why he acts the part of a caring politician in public and that of a terrorist in private; well, no indication other than that Nero enjoys wreaking havoc and perhaps more so the power he wields because of it. What are the odds he started out as a man seeking revenge, like Marcus, and has become what he is currently by continuing down that dark path? Again, the answer isn't clear, except for what matters most: Nero is too far gone to stop himself and therefore must be stopped.  
5\. Who is the ultimate bad guy in this story? I knew going in that it wouldn't be Nero, which is why the reader didn't cross paths with him until nearer to the end. The ultimate bad guy wouldn't even be the initial kidnappers, Kor and his faithful Brothers. Marcus seemed like one for a long while but was actually only an instrument that danced to the tune of both Kor and Nero. He envied others for their freedom but most especially envied Pike, who was free _and_ respected by many for being a straight-laced, honorable man; the kind of person that Marcus had given up on becoming. Yet... despite setting events in motion, Marcus is a passing villain, not our ultimate bad guy either. Therefore one must conclude that someone worse exists. A person who profits from the evil deeds of men like Marcus, Nero, and Kor, who has the cunning to remain hidden, and who has the power needed to entice those hungry for it. In other words, I saved the best of the 'baddest' for last, literally.  
5\. Which brings me to the final point. Who are our good guys? You saw them in various shades, separate agents in the beginning but working together by the end. Our most familiar characters are still young yet and growing into their potential, which is why this story - and series, for the most part - has focused on the generation that will nurture that potential and raise their young to defend and protect the ones who need defense and protection. It began with Pike alone in this role, learning to be a father and to raise a son. But families are meant to grow, and so the Pike-Kirk family has grown just by virtue of how it was built: by the willingness of someone to accept less than perfection and to offer love and kindness to the one who might otherwise live without it. Were I of a mind to continue this series, there would be more shenanigans, yes, and bigger bad guys to catch, but at the heart of the story the theme would always come down to family and the strength in unity which arises from a family-like environment. This is a tenet of Star Trek in any incarnation, and hands down my favorite one.**

 **Thank you, everyone, for giving your time and attention to the adventures of our Holiday crew. Whether the characters are in a Merry Gang or pissing off town councilors or poking noses into each other's love life, I think we can conclude that this alternate universe was never once boring.**

 **I'll end this note by asking a favor of you: tell me your favorite character in this series and why. I couldn't pick just one if I tried, so I am curious to know if others can!**


End file.
